^> 


f^ 


// 


<^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


I 


1.0    ^^  Vi 

■tt  Bi    122 
S  liS  12.0 


1.1 


FhotogFEfdiic 

Sdmces 

Carporation 


23  VnST  MAIN  STRHT 

WnSTM.N.Y.  I4SM 

(7l*)«7a*4S03 


^.^ 
^ 


fit 


\ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/iCiVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microraproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  do  microraproductions  historiquas 


Ttehnical  and  Bibliographic  NotM/NotM  tschniquM  at  bibiiographiquM 


Th«  Instituta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  iMat 
original  copy  availabia  for  fiimittg.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibiiographicaiiy  uniqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
reproduction,  or  which  may  aignificantly  changa 
tht>  uaual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  balow. 


n 


D 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Colourad  covara/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


|~n   Covara  damagad/ 


Couvartura  andommagia 

Covara  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  raatauria  at/ou  palliculAa 


□  Covar  titia  miaaing/ 
La  titra  da  couvartura  manqua 

□   Colourad  mapa/ 
Cartaa  g<ftoaraph 


g<ftographiquaa  an  coulaur 

Colourad  inic  (i.a.  othar  than  blua  or  black)/ 
Encra  da  coulaur  (i.a.  autra  qua  blaua  ou  noira) 

Colourad  plataa  and/or  illuatrationa/ 
Pianchaa  at/ou  illuatrationa  an  coulaur 


Bound  with  othar  matarial/ 
Rail*  avac  d'autraa  documanta 

Tight  binding  may  cauaa  ahadowa  or  diatortion 
along  intarior  margin/ 

Larcliura  aarrte  paut  cauaar  da  I'ombra  ou  da  la 
diatortion  la  long  da  la  marga  IntAriaura 

Blank  laavaa  addad  during  raatoration  may 
appaar  within  tha  taxt.  Whanavar  poaaibla.  thaaa 
hava  baan  omittad  from  filming/ 
II  aa  paut  qua  cartainaa  pagaa  bianchaa  ajoutiaa 
lora  d'una  raatauration  apparaiaaant  dana  la  taxta, 
mala,  iorsqua  cala  £tait  poaaibla,  caa  pagaa  n'ont 
paa  At*  film«aa. 

Additional  commanta:/ 
Commantairaa  supplAmantairaa: 


L'Inatitut  a  microfilm4  la  maillaur  axamplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  At*  poaaibla  da  sa  procurar.  Laa  d4taila 
da  cat  axamplaira  qui  aont  paut-Atra  uniquaa  du 
point  da  vua  bibliographiqua,  qui  pauvant  modifiar 
una  imaga  raproduita,  ou  qui  pauvant  axigar  una 
modification  dana  la  mAthoda  normala  da  filmaga 
aont  indic^uAa  d-daaaoua. 

□  Colourad  pagaa/ 
Pagaa  da  coulaur 

□   Pagaa  damagad/ 
Pagaa  andommagAaa 

Pagaa  raatorad  and/oi 

Pagaa  raataurAaa  at/ou  palliculAaa 

Pagaa  diacoiourad,  atainad  or  foxai 
Pagaa  dAcolorAaa,  tachatAaa  ou  piquAaa 

Pagaa  datachad/ 
Pagaa  dAtachAaa 

Showthroughy 
Tranaparanca 

Quality  of  prin 

QualitA  inAgala  da  I'impraaalon 

Includaa  aupplamantary  matarii 
Comprand  du  matArial  aupplAmantaira 

Only  adMon  availabia/ 
Saula  Adition  diaponibia 


n 


I — I  Pagaa  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 

rri  Pagaa  diacoiourad,  atainad  or  foxad/ 

I — I  Pagaa  datachad/ 

r^  Showthrough/ 

pn  Quality  of  print  variaa/ 

|~~|  Includaa  aupplamantary  matarial/ 

rn  Only  adMon  availabia/ 


Pagaa  wholly  or  partially  obacurad  kiy  arrata 
aiipa,  tiaauaa,  ate.,  hava  baan  rafllmad  to 
anaura  tha  baat  poaaibla  imaga/ 
Laa  pagaa  totalamant  ou  partiallamant 
obacurclaa  par  un  fauillat  d'arrata,  una  palura, 
ate,  ont  AtA  filmAaa  A  nouvaau  da  fa^on  A 
obtanir  la  maillaura  imaga  poaaibla. 


Tha  cop 
to  tha  g 


Tha  ima 
poaaibla 
of  tha  o 
filming 


Original 
baginnif 
thalaat 
•ion.  or 
otfiar  or 
firatpafl 
■Ion,  an 
or  illuati 


Thalaat 
ahaN  co< 
TINUED 
whiehav 

IMapa.  p 
diffaram 


baginniii 
right  am 
raquirad 
mathod: 


Thia  itam  la  fllmad  at  tha  raduction  ratio  chackad  balow/ 

Ca  doeumant  aat  filmA  au  taux  da  rAduction  indiquA  ci-daaaoua 

10X                          14X                           18X                          22X 

26X 

30X 

^ 

. 

12X 


ItX 


aex 


24X 


32X 


ilair* 
M  d«t«ila 
IquM  du 
nt  modifiar 
KigMT  un« 
!•  filmao* 


d/ 
lutet 


Tb«  copy  filmsd  har*  haa  baan  raproduaad  thanka 
to  tha  ganaroahy  of: 


St  PmiI  Unhraraity 
OttMm 


Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  qualitv 
poaaibia  eonaidaring  ttia  condition  and  lagibiHty 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  icaaping  with  ttM 
filming  contraet  apadf leationa. 


Original  copiaa  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  fUniad 
baginnlng  with  tha  front  cover  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratod  impraa- 
•ion.  or  tha  bacic  cover  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  fllmad  beginning  on  tha 
flrat  paga  with  a  printad  or  llliiatratad  impraa> 
lion,  and  anding  on  tho  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  iwpraaiion. 


Tha  laat  racordod  frame  on  aaeh  microfiche 
thaH  contain  the  ayjnbol  — ^  (meening  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meening  "END"), 
whichever  appilea. 


L'axemplaire  film4  f ut  reproduit  grice  i  la 
gAnArosit*  do: 

UniwnitiSt-PMil 
OttMva 

Lea  imagaa  suivantaa  ont  Ati  raproduitaa  avac  la 
piua  grand  soin,  eompta  tenu  da  la  condition  at 
da  ia  nettetA  do  I'eiiempieire  filmA.  at  an 
conformity  avec  lea  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmage. 

Lee  ORempieiree  origineux  dont  le  couvartura  •n 
papier  eat  imprim^a  sent  fiimis  an  eommenpant 
par  la  premier  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
damlAre  pege  qui  comporte  una  amprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'iiluatration.  soit  per  la  second 
plot,  selon  ie  caa.  Toua  lea  autras  axempleires 
origineux  sont  film4e  an  comman^ent  par  la 
pramlAre  pege  qui  comporte  une  emprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'iiluatration  at  an  tarminent  par 
la  damiAre  pege  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboiee  suivents  apparaltra  sur  la 
dami^re  image  da  cheque  microfiche,  salon  la 
caa:  la  symbola  -^  signifle  "A  SUiVRE".  le 
symbols  ▼  signifle  "FIN". 


aire 


Mape.  platea.  charta.  etc..  mey  be  fHmed  et 
different  reduction  ratioe.  Thoee  too  ierge  to  be 
entirehf  included  in  one  expoeure  ara  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hend  comer,  left  to 
right  end  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framea  aa 
required.  The  following  diegrema  illuatrate  the 
method: 


Lea  cartaa.  planchaa.  tablaeux.  etc..  pauvent  Atra 
filmte  i  dee  taux  da  rMuction  diff^rants. 
Loraqua  la  document  est  trop  grand  pour  fttra 
reproduit  en  un  soul  cliche,  il  est  film*  i  partir 
da  Tangle  aupArieur  geuche,  de  gauclta  i  droita, 
at  de  heut  en  bee.  en  prenem  le  nombra 
d'imagea  nAcaaaaire.  Lea  diagrammea  suivents 
iilustrent  la  mAthoda. 


by  arreta 
nad  to 

lent 

une  pelure. 

fa9on  i 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

DON 

M.  L'ABBE  0'aA"*A 
juin.    1937 


THE  CONVERT; 


<>•, 


Leaves  From  My  ExPERiEiNCE. 


BT 


O.  A..  BRCWNSON". 


A  NEW  EDITION  EDITED 

HENRY  F.  BROW 


NEW  YORK : 

D.  &  J.  SADLIER  &  CO.,  31   BARCLAY  STREET. 

MONTREAL :  S75  NOTRE  DAME  STREET. 


1877. 


UNIVERSITAS  S.  PAUU 

BIBLIOTHEQUE  -  L.BRARY 
233  MAIN,   OTTAWA 


*  COPYRIGHT, 

D.   &  J.   SADLIER   &  CO.* 


TO  THK 

\m\V:  KKVIUKXI)  .mux  l  KIIXAIII)  KITZrAITJCK,  0.  D„ 

niSHOP  OK  BOSTON 

THIS  rNiM;r,Ti:\i>r\(;  voi.imk    is  most    KKsi'KCTFrM.v 

DHDICATKI)    AS    A    IKKP.I.K    MA  UK    OK   TIIK    VKX- 
EKATION     KoK      MIS     VIMIKS.    AND     'I.IIE 

m 

DKKi'  <;i:a  II I  i:pK  I(»k  iiis  sM!:vices 

TO    TH.    CONMin,  (11     KISIIED 

liV    IMS    Sl'IlilTUAL  ■      V 


SOX, 


TUE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE 


TO  THE  PRESENT  EDITION. 


It  was  the  Author's  intention  in  pending  forth  a  new 
edition  of  "  The  Convert"  to  have  added  a  now  prefuce, 
wherein  he  would  have  shown  the  effect  of  eighteen 
additional  years  of  Catholic  life  upon  his  views  and  his 
writings,  and  in  which  he  would  have  made  known  the 
harmony  of  Catholio  Theology  with  his  more  mature 
views  of  that  Doctrine  of  Life  which  had  led  him  to  the 
tlireshold  of  tlie  Catholio  Church.  He  would  have  told 
those  who,  twenty  and  thirty  years  ago,  were  daily  fore- 
telling his  nest  change  of  faith,  and  who  assumed  that  his 
was  a  restless  mind  tliat  could  never  be  made  to  work  in 
suhonlinatioii  to  the  Catliolic  Cimrch,  that  for  thirtv  vears 

'  mm 

110  thought  hud  ever  entered  his  mind  which  could  by  any 
j)ossiliility  l>o  construed  iuto  a  doubt  of  any  doctrine  of 
that  Church,  or  u  hesitation  to  obey  her  authority  ;  that 
his  mind  was  not  restless,  though  ever  active,  and  no 
more  restncted  in  its  freedom  b}'  the  authoritative  def- 
initions of  an  infallible  Church,  than  the  cautious  mariner 
by  the  charts  and  beacons  that  guide  his  course. 

Reasonably  believing  the  mediiral  authority  which 
promised  him  several  years  yet  of  useful  work,  he  was 
about  to  revise  such  of  his  writings  as  he  judged  most 
deserving  of  republication,  and  had  authorized  this  new 
edition  of  "  The  Convert ;"  but  ho  had  only  corrected  a 
few  of  the  proofsheets  when  his  increasing  iufinuity 
forced   him   to   lay   aside  the   pen   which  his  hand  had 

v 


VI 


PREFA(.'B. 


' 


wieMod  so  powerfully  for  more  than  half  a  centnry.  The 
revision  niul  republicutioii  of  hid  writings,  as  well  as  the 
I'diling  of  Hiich  unpiiUlishod  works  as  were  complotod 
before  his  death,  must,  then,  fall  to  the  hands  of  one 
inlinitcly  less  able  and  experienced,  although  equally 
loval  to  truth  and  to  tho  Church.  » 

Tho  trials  wliich  tho  Author  of  "Tho  Convert"  had  to 
j»ass  tliroiigh  after  his  reception  into  the  Church,  were  never 
such  as  Ci)uld  shake  his  faith  in  Catholic  truth,  or  weaken 
his  love  for  God  and  llis  Divine  Spouse,  the  Church. 
Liilividuals  could  annoy  him  ;  and  it  was  often  a  disappoint- 
ment to  find  those  who  should  have  worked  by  his  side 
with  an  eye  single  to  the  spread  of  truth  and  the  enlighten- 
ment of  the  erring,  turning  aside  at  every  impulse  of 
jealousy  or  vanity,  and  giving  nuison  to  believe  they  cared 
less  that  the  work  ahoiild  be  done,  than  that  it  should  be 
done  by  them  or  in  their  way.  It  is  easy  to  conceive 
wiiat  must  be  tho  feelings  of  a  man  who  has  passed  fifty 
years  in  the  study  of  pliilosopliy  and  theology,  a»id 
ac(piired  a  world-wide  reputation  by  his  mastery  of 
tlmse  sciences,  when  periodically  assailed  by  a  number 
of  newspaper  editors  and  correspondents  gravely  criticis- 
ing, and,  in  a  tone  of  authority,  condoinning  doctrines, 
of  tho  meaning  of  which  they  often  had  not  the  slightest 
conception.  There  was  scarcely  one  of  his  critics  who  did 
n»t  conceive  himself  mote  learned  and  profound  than  tlio 
writer  whom  he  would  put  down  with  a  "benign  smile," 
or  an  assertion  of  superior  knowledge.  "  In  my  country 
we  dojjs  often  attack  lions."  • 

As  the  Author  became  more  familiar  with  the  details  of 
Catholic  teaching  and  the  writings  of  the  Fathers  and 
Doctors  of  the  Church,  the  Doctrine  of  Life,  which  had 
prej)ared  lis  mind  for  entering  the  Church,  grew  freely 
and  (*N|i.i".<l.'  1  i:.to  ;»  iHiilo'Opiilcal  and  theolt»giual  system 


PREFACE. 


Vll 


of  amazing  beaaty  and  profound  thought,  as  oxprcBsed  in 
all  his  later  writings.  The  grand  harmony  whicli  he  be- 
lii'ld  between  the  natural  and  the  supernatural  orders,  the 
analogy  of  the  natural  and  the  supernatural  life,  and  the 
idcniity  of  that  which  is  known  and  that  which  is,  are 
tliu  points  on  which  ho  loved  to  insist.  The  reduction  of 
the  facts  of  the  natural  order  to  their  principles,  the  fact  of 
creation,  was  the  object  of  his  philosophy  j  and  the  reduction 
of  all  the  facts  of  the  supernatural  order,  articles,  dogmas, 
and  miracles,  in  turn,  to  their  principles :  the  deification  of 
the  creature,  the  Incarnation, — was  the  aim  of  his  theology. 
Such  iiJ,  substantially,  the  last  expression  of  his  thought, 
tliat,  as  the  Incarnation  is  impossildo  without  the  creatitmy 
so  is  creation  impossible  without  the  Incarnation.  This 
denial  of  a  natural  end,  or  a  natural  beatitude  for  man, 
and  the  assertion  that  God  created  man  for  a  supernatural 
en<l,  althoui^fh  tanjjht  in  the  Catechism  which  the  vener- 
able  Bishop  of  Boston  put  into  his  hands  upon  his  con- 
version, was  the  first  occasion  of  distrusting  him  by  a 
learned  V)ody  of  Catholic  teachers. 

"When  the  first  news  of  the  Syllabus  of  Pius  IX  reached 
thi-;  country,  we  ha<l  vague  and  inaccurate  reports  of  its 
contents,  and  what  errors  were  condemned  bv  it.  Manv 
tliought,  in  improbating  ont«dogipm,  it  aflirnied  psych olog- 
isiu,  and  enjoined  the  Scholastic  processes  and  conclusions. 
The  Author  was  startled  at  the  news.  It  was  hard  for 
liim  to  think  the  philosophy  ho  had  been  insisting  on  was 
false,  as  he  knew  it  must  be  if  condemned  by  the  Holy 
See ;  and  he  could  hardly  suspect  that  the  Syllabus  had 
been  incorrectly  reported.  But  when  the  full  text  was 
received,  he  f«»und  not  a  word  in  it  to  conllict  with  any 
doctrine  he  held  in  philosophy  or  Theology  ;  nor  does  it 
condemn  a  single  philosophical  doctrine  which  tiie  Author 
of  "  The  Ci»nvert "  had  not,  as  he  believed,  already  refuted. 


viii 


PRIFACB. 


•I 


It  would  be  a  moft  Interesting  stady  to  examine  in  detail 
all  the  matters  of  difference  which  have  existed  between 
**  The  Convert "  and  the  varions  schools,  parties,  and  cation* 
alities  during  the  period  which  has  elapsed  since  the 
publication  of  this  book ;  bnt,  on  the  other  hand,  it  would 
revive  many  animosities,  and  might  be  the  occasion  of 
more  harm  than  good  at  the  present  moment.  The  only 
object  in  now  alluding  to  them  at  all  is  to  repeat  what  lie 
says  of  his  earlier  experience :  that,  whatever  shortcom- 
ings he  met  nith  in  himself  or  in  others,  though  there  was 
much  to  try  him  and  to  shake  him,  if  he  could  have 
been  shaken,  there  never  entered  his  mind  one  doubt,  one 
suspicion,  of  the  truth  of  Catholicity. 

On  the  other  hand,  during  his  Catholic  life  his  most 
general  experience  was  an  enjoyment  of  sympathy  and 
generous  support  from  all  ranks  of  Catholics,  less  noisy, 
indeed,  than  public  opposition,  but  heartfelt,  earnest,  and 
encouraging.  Nearly  all  of  the  Bishops  and  Clergy  were 
his  fast  friends;  and  their  friendship  he  esteemed  as  a  rich 
reward  for  all  his  labors.  As  advancing  years  brought 
profounder  knowledge  of  the  truth,  and  clearer,  deeper 
insight  into  the  errors  and  vagaries  of  Protestantism  and 
modern  scientific  infidelity,  his  love  for  the  Church  grew 
more  and  more  fervent,  and  he  blessed  Almighty  God  daily 
more  and  more  for  the  infinite  goodness  shown  in  rescuing 
him  from  his  wanderings  in  the  mazes  of  doubt  and  un- 
belief, and  for  bringing  him  to  the  clear  light  of  truth  in 
the  bosom  of  the  infallible  Church. 


H.  r.  BROWNSON. 


Detroit^  May  3istj  1876. 


L_ 


PREFACE. 


The  volume  here  offered  to  the  readiiii^  piillio  isi  no  work 
of  fiction,  and  the  person  who  i^ives  tin  account  of  himself 
is  no  imaginary  person  around  whom  I  havo  cliosoii  to 
weave  paHsages  t'roiu  my  own  experience.  Tlio  porscwi 
wlio  telle)  his  Btory  is  myself,  and  I  have  aimed  to  tell  my 
Btory,  so  far  as  it  bears  on  my  religious  convictions  and 
experience,  with  simplicity,  frankness,  and  truthfulness. 
Tiie  boolc,  whatever  else  it  may  or  may  not  he,  is  an 
honest  book. 

I  have  traced,  with  all  the  fidelity  I  am  master  of,  my 
entire  religious  life  from  my  earliest  recollection  down  to 
my  admission  into  the  bosom  of  the  Oatht>lio  Church.  I 
have  concealed  none  of  my  errors,  disguised  none  of  my 
changes,  and  sought  to  represent  myself  at  no  period  as 
vbetter  or  worse  than  I  was.  My  aim  has  been,  neither  to 
vin<licate  nor  to  condemn  myself,  but  simply  to  tell  the 
truth. 

Though  I  am  the  hero  of  my  book,  and  speak  in  the 
first  person,  I  trust  the  reader  will  not  find  me  i?u- 
moderatelv  effotistio.  I  have  not  written  to  ffive  mvself 
importance  in  the  eyes  of  the  puV)lic,  or  from  a  feeling 
that  my  story,  simply  as  mine,  could  have  any  great 
interest  or  value.  Nearly  all  that  is  coutai(jed  in  the 
volume  derives  whatever  value  or  importance  it  may  have, 
from  sources  independent  of  my  personality. 

Wliat  is  related  as  matter  of  fact,  unless  mv  memorv  has 
played  me   tricks,  may  be  read   with  entire  confi<lence. 

ix         ■ 


XX 


rUKFACK. 


Tlic  priiiciplos  ami  reasoninjjfs  set  fortli,  arul  the  jii(l::^in(Mit8 
oiriTCHl,  8[)e.'ik  for  tlicniselves,  and  must  gi>  lor  what  they 
are  worth.  Truth  is  not  mine,  nor  my  reader's,  and  is  the 
namfe  whatever  may  be  his  or  my  opinions.  It  is  above  us 
both,  and  independent  of  us,  and  all  that  either  of  us 
should  aim  at  is  to  ascertain  and  conforui  to  it.  I  have  n(> 
vocation  to  docftnati/x'  or  to  teach.  If  what  I  sav  carries 
conviction,  accept  it ;  if  not,  reject  it,  or  suspend  judgment 
till  better  informed. 

The  reader  will  at  once  perceive  that  my  book  is  not 
designed  to  Hatter  one  or  another  sect  or  party.  I  have 
expressed  freely,  frankly,  unreservedly,  my  honest  thought 
of  persons  and  things  that  have  come  in  my  way,  the 
results  t»f  my  most  careful  observations  and  of  my  best 
judgment.  I  have  not  addressed  my  work  especially  to 
Catholics  or  to  non-Cathoiics,  but  to  the  public  at  large. 
I^fy  pur[)ose  has  been  to  render  to  all  who  may  take  an 
interest  in  the  matter,  an  account  of  my  conversion  to 
Catholicity,  and  to  enable  the  curious  in  such  matters  to 
discover  the  connecting  link  between  my  past  and  my 
present  life,  in  order  to  enable  them  to  discover  the 
connecting  link  between  nature  and  '^r  ice,  the  natural  and 
the  supernatural,  and  to  perceive  that,  in  becoming  a 
Catholic,  a  man  has  no  occasion  to  divest  himself  of  his 
nature,  or  to  forego  the  exercise  of  his  reason. 

In  my  reference  to  Catholic  faith  and  doctrine,  I  believe 
I  am  orthodox  j  but  in  all  such  matters  I  recognize  the 
Church,  under  God,  as  the  only  infallible  teacher.  I  am 
a  Catholic,  and  it  would  be  in  bad  taste  to  seek  to  conceal 
or  to  disguise  the  fact.  I  have  no  wish  to  force  mv 
Catludic  faith  upon  those  who  loathe  its  bare  mention,  but 
for  myself  I  glory  in  it,  and  consider  submission  to  the 
teaching  of  the  Church  the  noblest  exercise  I  can  make  of 
my  reason  and  free-will. 


rUKFAfK. 


zi 


Jdy  book,  Lo'vovcr,  is  the  fiec  piodnciiou  of  my  owi! 
njinti,  tlie  free  exj)ressit>n  of  my  own  honest  i'oiiv'u:iiMMs  .is 
formed  by  my  experience,  the  inspiration  of  grace  and  iho 
teachings  of  Catliolic  faith  and  theology,  antl  may  i'O 
taken  by  my  readers  as  a  specimen  of  that  freedom  wliicU 
Catholicity  secures  to  all  her  children. 

The  temper  of  the  book,  I  hope,  will  be  found 
acceptable  to  every  class  of  readers, — free  from  all 
bitterness,  harshness,  or  severity.  It  is  not  a  controversial 
work,  but  a  simple  narrative,  which  may  or  may  nt»t  carry 
with  it  a  moral :  and  mv  aim  has  been  to  treat  all  of  whom 
I  have  occasion  to  speak,  with  fairness  and  liberaiity,  ami 
to  acknowledge  cheerfully  real  worth  wherever  I  find  it. 
I  may  have  erred  in  my  judgments,  but  not  from  bigotiy, 
prejudice,  or  an  intolerant  disposition. 

I  have  aimed  to  tell  my  story  simply,  and  to  keep  as 
clear  as  possible  of  all  abstruse  metaphysical  or  theological 
discuasionaj  yet,  as  I  had  in  some  parts  the  profoundest 
problems  of  human  life  to  deal  with,  and  as  my  own  path 
to  the  Church  led  through  the  field  of  philosophy,  I  have  not 
been  able  whidly  to  avoid  then:,  and  there  are  parts  of  the 
work  which  will  have  little  interest  for  those  who  read 
only  fur  aujusement.  I  have  aimed  to  write  an  instructive, 
not  an  amusing,  book. 

The  historian  of  the  aberratiims  of  human  reason  during 
the  last  half  century  will,  if  I  am  not  much  mistaken,  find 
this  volume  not  unworthy  of  his  attention.  The  accounts 
riiave  given  of  the  various  sects,  schools,  and  parties^itl 
which  I  came  at  different  times  in  contact,  to^j 
the  sketches  I  have  ventured  of  their  foun 
will  be  found,  I  think,  devoid  neither  of  i 
These  accounts  and  sketches  might 
extended,  but  I  have  made  it  a  rule 
what  served  to  illustrate  my  own  sto 


xii 


PREFACE. 


porary  movements  and  uidividuals  that  exerted  little  or  no 
i?illuence  upon  my  own  opinions  or  relations,  I  have 
passed  over  as  foreign  to  ray  subject. 

With  these  prefatory  remarks,  wholly  unnecessary  on 
my  pait,  I  corninit  my  volume  to  the  public  to  make  or 
mar  its  fortune.  It  embodies  no  small  portion  of  fifty 
vears  uf  an  active,  perhaps  feverish,  intellectual  life, 
devoted  to  serious  and  earnest  purposes;  with  what 
obstacles  and  with  what  results,  it  tells  in  a  plain,  unpre- 
tending style.  In  writing  it,  I  have  had  occasion  to 
review  my  whole  past  life,  and  to  renew  my  thanks  to  Him 
wlio  died  that  we  might  live,  for  having  conducted  me, 
after  so  many  wanderings,  from  the  abyss  of  doubt  and 
infidelity  to  the  light  and  truth,  of  His  Gospel,  in  the 
boKom  of  His  Church,  where  I  find  the  peace  and  repose 


BO  long  denied  me. 


THE  AUTHOR. 


New  Yobk,  September  16, 18/)7. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Childhood  and  Youth,    .  •  # 

CHAPTER  II. 

Presbttbrian  Experience,    .  ^  « 

CHAPTER  III. 
Become  a  Uniybrsalist,     ^        •  • 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Uniyersalism  Unsatisfactory,        •  • 

CHAPTER  V. 
Become  a  World-Reformer,       •  • 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Methods  of  World-Reform,  •  • 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Working  Men,         .  •  • 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Religion  of  Humanity,        .  .  • 


14 


29 


45 


62 


80 


96 


108 


'V                                       CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Union  and  Pkogress,      .           * 

PAGB 

.   122 

CHAPTER  X. 
My  "New  Views,"      .           «           • 

.           137 

CHAPTER  XL 
Saint-Simonism,     .... 

.   149 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Horrible  Doctrines,             *           , 

163 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Getting  Better,      .        ,           ,           . 

.    180 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Man  no  Church-Builder,     . 

•          201 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Providential  Men,         .           «           , 

.  220 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Struggles  ajjter  Light, 

240 

CHAPTER  XVIL 
A  Step  Forward,           .           ♦           • 

.  257 

CHAPTER  XVIII 
i                   Become  a  Catholic,      '       •           , 

•          277 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Belief  on  Authority,      ,          ,           . 

.  299 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Conclusion,       .... 

SI.*) 

THE    OONVEET. 


CHAPTER  I. 


CHILDHOOD   AND   YOUTH. 

I  WAS  born  in  the  town  of  Stockbridge,  Windsor 
County,  Vermont,  September  16,  1803.  My  father 
was  a  native  of  Hartford  County,  Connecticut ;  my 
mother  of  the  beautiful  village  of  Keene,  New  Hamp- 
sliire.  At  the  age  of  six  years  I  was  placed  with 
an  aged  couple  in  the  town  of  Royalton  to  be  brought 
up.  The  man,  when  I  went  to  live  with  him,  was 
upwards  of  sixty  ;  his  wife  was  about  fifty.  They 
were  plain  country  people,  living  on  a  small  fanoy 
and  supporting  themselves  by  their  own  industry- 
They  had  been  brought  up  in  New  England  Congre- 
gationalism, were  honest,  upright,  strictly  moral,  and 
far  more  ready  to  suffer  wrong  than  to  do  wrong, 
but  had  no  particular  religion,  and  seldom  went  to 
meeting. 

I  was  treated  with  great  kindness  and  affection, 
and  as  well  brought  up  as  could  be  expected  from 
persons  in  their  condition  of  life.     They  taught  ifie  to 


I 

i,      ! 


2 


TIIK    COXVKKT. 


be  honest,  to  owe  no  one  anything  but  good^will,  to  be 
frugal  and  industrious,  to  speak  the  truth,  never  to 
tell  a  lie  under  any  circumstances,  or  to  take  what  was 
not  my  own,  even  to  the  value  of  a  pin  ;  to  keep  the 
Sabbath,  and  never  to  let  the  sun  go  down  on  my 
wrath.  In  addition  they  taught  me  the  Shorter 
Catechism,  the  Apostles'  Creed,  the  Lord^s  Prayer, 
and  a  short  evening  prayer  in  rhyme,  which  ran, 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep ; 
If  I  should  die  before  I  wake 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take/' 

Properly  speaking  I  had  no  childhood,  and  h^.ve 
more  of  the  child  in  my  feelings  now  than  at  eight 
or  ten  years  of  age.  Brought  up  with  old  people, 
and  debarred  from  all  the  sports,  plays,  and  amuse- 
ments of  children,  I  had  the  manners,  the  tone,  and 
tastes  of  an  old  man  before  I  was  a  boy.  A  sad  mis-  * 
fortune;  for  children  form  one  another,  and  should 
always  be  suffered  to  be  children  as  long  as  possible. 
.  Both  childhood  and  youth  are  quite  too  short  with 
'  us,  and  the  morals  and  manners  of  the  country  suf- 
fer from  it. 

I  early  learnt  to  read,  and  was  from  my  earliest 
recollection  fond  of  reading  j  but  we  had  few  books, 
and  our  neighbors  had  fewer.  Our  family  library, 
consisted  of  a  Protestant  version  of  the  Scriptures, 
a  London  edition ;  Watts's  Psalms  and  Divine  SongSy 
and  TJte  Franklin  Primer^  to  which  were  subse- 
quently added   Edwards's  History  of  Redemption; 


CIIILDIIOUD   AND    YOUTH. 


m 


Davies's  Sermons  ;  a  History  of  the  Indian  Wars,  by 
a  Dr.  iSanders,  I  believe,  at  one  time  President  of 
the  Vermont  University  at  Burlington ;  a  mutilated 
copy  of  Philip  Quark,  a  work  of  fiction,  written  in 
imitation  of  Defoe's  Robinson  Crusoe;  and  during 
the  war  of  1812  with  Great  Britain,  a  weekly  news- 
paper, published  in  Windsor  by  Alden  Spooner. 
'My  reading  was  confined  to  these  works,  and  prin- 
cipally to  the  Scriptures,  all  of  which  I  had  read 
through  before  I  was  eight,  and  a  great  part  of  which 
I  knew  by  heart  before  I  was  fourteen  years  old. 

My  thoughts  from  my  earliest  recollection  took 
a  religious  turn,  and  my  greatest  pleasure  was  in 
conversing,  or  in  hearing  others  converse,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  religion.  When  about  nine  years  old,  I  was 
permitted  to  accompany  a  much  older  boy  to  "  the 
middle  of  the  town,''  about  four  miles  distant  from 
our  residence,  to  witness  a  muster,  or  general  train- 
'  ing  of  a  brigade  of  militia.  On  returning  home,  I 
was  asked  what  I  had  seen  to  interest  me.  I  an- 
swered that  I  had  seen  two  old  men  talking  on  religion. 
In  fact,  I  was  so  much  interested  in  their  discussion 
that  I  quite  forgot  the  soldiers,  though  I  came  of  a 
military  family,  and  almost  forgot  to  eat  my  card  of 
gingerbread.  The  discussion,  I  remember,  was  on 
free-will  and  election,  and  I  actually  took  part  in  it, 
stoutly  maintaining  free-will  against  Edwards,  who 
confounds  volition  with  judgment,  and  maintains  that 
the  will  is  necessarily  determined  by  the  state  of  the 
afi'ections  and  the  motives  presented  to  the  under- 
standing. ' 


<1 

1 

1 

1 

« 

j 
i 

• 

; 

! 
i 

1 

i 

1 

1  ; 

1 

1 

j 

1 

i 

i 

; 

I  : 

1  ! 

!j 

;  1 

i 

4  :  TBE  CONVERT. 

The  simple  history  of  the  Passion  of  our  Lord, 
as  I  read  it  in  the  Evangelists^  affected  me  deeply. 
I  hung  with  delight  on  the  Mystery  of  Redemption, 
and  my  young  heart  often  burned  with  love  to  our 
Blessed  Lord,  who  had  been  so  good  as  to  come  into 
the  world,  and  to  submit  to  the  most  cruel  death  of 
the  cross  that  he  might  save  us  from  our  wicked 
dispositions,  and  make  us  happy  forever  in  heaven. 
I  wanted  to  know  everything  about  him,  and  I  used 
to  think  of  him  frequently  in  the  day  and  the  night. 
Sometimes  I  seemed  to  hold  long  familiar  conversa- 
tions with  him,  and  was  deeply  pained  when  any- 
thing occurred  to  interrupt  them.  Sometimes,  also, 
I  seemed  to  hold  a  spiritual  intercourse  with  the 
Blessed  Mary,  and  with  the  holy  Angel  Gabriel, 
who  had  announced  to  her  that  she  was  to  be  the 
mother  of  the  Redeemer.  I  was  rarely  less  alone 
than  when  alone.  I  did  not  speculate  on  the  matter. 
It  all  seemed  real  to  me,  and  I  enjoyed  often  an 
inexpressible  happiness.  I  preferred  to  be  alone, 
for  then  I  could  taste  the  sweets  of  silent  meditation, 
and  feel  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  Jesus  and  Mary, 
and  the  holy  angels ;  yet  I  had  not  been  baptized, 
and  had  very  little  instruction  except  such  as  I  had 
obtained  from  reading  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

The  earliest  wish  I  recollect  to  have  formed  with 
regard  to  my  future  life,  was  to  be  a  minister  of 
religion,  and  to  devote  myself  to  the  work  of  bringing 
people  to  the  knowledge  and  the  love  of  God.  For 
this,  I  longed  to  go  to  school,  to  get  learning,  to  grow 
lip,  and  to  be  a  mau.      I  early  looked  upon  myself  as 


CHILDHOOD   AND   YOUTH. 


one  called  and  set  apart  to  the  service  of  religion.  I 
had  an  irritable  temper,  and  was  subject  to  violent 
outbreaks  of  passion,  but  I  tried  hard  to  control  my- 
self, and  neither  to  do  nor  to  think  anything  wrong, 
and,  till  I  was  man  grown,  I  do  not  believe  I  ever 
suifered  the  sun  to  go  down  upon  my  wrath.  I  had 
my  faults  as  well  as  others,  and  did  many  things 
which  were  by  no  means  right  or  excusable ;  but  my 
conscience  was  active,  and  I  always  felt  a  deep 
remorse  for  them,  and  was  ready  always  to  do  all  in 
my  power,  to  submit  to  any  humiliation  however 
great,  to  repair  the  faults  I  committed,  or  the  wrongs 
1  did.  I  always  felt  that  the  next  best  thing  to  never 
doing  wrong,  was  to  own  the  wrong  done,  and 
endeavor  to  undo  it.  So  it  was  with  me  in  my  child- 
hood, till  I  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  when  I  left  the 
kind  old  people,  who  had  thus  far  brought  me  up,' 
and  went  forth  into  the  world  alone,  to  make  my  way 
as  best  I  could. 

My  youth  was  not  as  blameless  as  my  childhood, 
and  it  was  far  less  happy.  Religion,  however, 
never  lost  its  place  in  my  thoughts.  But  unhappily, 
while  I  had  strong  religious  affections  and  the  ele- 
ments of  Christian  belief,  I  belonged  to  no  Church, 
and  had  no  definite  creed.  True,  I  had  been  taught 
the  Shorter  Catechism,  but  I  was  not  taught  it  as 
something  I  must  believe ;  and  I  soon  learned  that 
tliey  who  taught  it  to  me  did  not  themselves  believe 
it.  True,  also,  I  was  taught  the  Apostles'  Creed, 
but  I  was  not  required  to  believe  it,  and  received  no 
instructions  as  to  its  sense.     I  probably  did  believe, 


THE  CONVERT. 


however,  tlie  greater  part  of  it.  I  believed  in  God 
tlie  Feather  Almighty  ;  that  Jesus  Christ  was  his  only 
begotten  Son ;  that  he  was  conceived  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  was  crucified  by 
the  wicked  Jews,  under  Pontius  Pilate,  was  dead, 
and  buried ;  that  he  rose  again  from  the  dead  on  the 
third  day ;  that  he  ascended  into  heaven ;  that  he 
sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father  Almighty, 
whence  he  shall  come  to  judge  the  quick  and  the 
dead.  I  believed  in  the  Holy  Ghost ;  the  forgiveness 
of  sins  for  Christ's  sake ;  the  resurrection  of  the  body, 
and  the  life  everlasting.  But  to  the  articles  of  the 
Creed  affirming  the  Holy  Catholic  Church,  and  the 
Communion  of  Saints,  I  attached  no  meaning ;  my 
attention  was  not  called  to  them ;  and  not  till  long 
years  after,  did  it  occur  to  me  to  ask  whether  they 
meant  any  thing  or  nothing. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  I  was  well  disposed  to 
believe,  and  that,  if  I  had  been  properly  instructed 
in  the  Christian  faith,  I  sliould  have  heartily  received 
it,  and  held  as  fast  to  it  as  an  unbaptized  person,  as 
one  who  is  only  a  catechumen,  can  do ;  but,  as  it  was, 
I  attached  very  little  definite  meaning  to  what  I  was 
taught,  and  was  open  to  any  kind  of  influences  by 
which  I  was  surrounded.  Nobody,  however,  told 
me  that  baptism  was  necessary;  and  nobody  told 
me  any  thing  about  the  Church.     The  most  I  waa 


told  was,  that  I  must  "  get  religion,"  "  experienc 


.< 


religion,"  have  '*a  change  of  heart,"  "be  born 
again ; "  but  how  that  was  to  be  brought  about,  I 
could  not  understand.     I  took  it  for  granted  that  I 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH. 


had  not  escperienced  religion,  and  I  really  wished  I 
might  be  bom  again ;  but  how  I  could  be  born  again, 
or  what  I  was  to  do  in  order  to  be  born  again,  nobody 
explained  to  my  understanding.    ' 

In  the  town  in  which  I  lived  we  had  Congrega- 
tionalists,  called  in  my  young  days,  "  The  Standing 
Order,"  Methodists,  Baptists,  Universalists,  and 
Christians,  or,  as  they  insisted  on  the  word  being 
pronounced,  Christ-yans,  The  Congregational  meet- 
ing-house was  four  miles  distant  from  our  house,  in 
the  middle  of  the  town,  and  we  never  attended  it. 
The  Methodists  and  Christi&UB,  a  sect  founded  in 
New  England  by  one  Elias  Smith,  and  one  Abner 
Jones,  in  the  year  1800,  if  I  mistake  not,  held  their 
meetings  near  by  us,  sometimes  in  a  school-house, 
sometimes  in  private  houses;  and  in  the  summer 
season,  not  unfrequently  in  a  very  pleasant  grove. 
The  Universalists  were  few,  and  so  were  the  Baptists. 
The  Methodists  and  Christians  were  the  more  nu- 
merous. I  usually  attended  their  meetings.  They 
differed,  I  was  told ;  but  the  only  difference  I  could 
discover  between  them  was,  that  the  Methodist 
preachers  appeared  to  have  the  stronger  lungs ;  they 
preached  in  a  louder  tone,  and  when  they  preached, 
the  people  shouted  more.  I  thought  them  the  best, 
because  they  made  the  most  noise,  and  gave  the 
most  vivid  pictures  of  hell-fire,  and  the  tortures  of 
the  damned.  All  I  learned,  however,  from  either 
was,  that  I  must  be  bom  again  or  go  to  hell,  get 
religion  or  be  damned.  The  more  I  listened  to  them, 
the  more  I  feared  hell,  and  the  less  I  loved  God. 


6         ,  THE   CONVKIIT. 

Love  gare  place  to  terror ;  and  I  became  constantly 
afraid  that  the  devil  would  come  and  carry  me  off 
bodily.  I  tried  to  get  religion,  and  at  times  almost 
made  up  my  mind  to  submit  to  the  Methodists,  and 
let  them  ''  bring  me  out." 

One  of  our  neighbors,  an  elderly  woman,  who  had 
^een  better  days,  had  been  well  brought  up  and  well 
educated,  was  a  Congregationalist,  a  stanch  ad- 
herent to  the  Standing  Order.  She  was  now  very 
poor,  and  lived  in  a  miserable  log-hut  on  one  corner 
of  our  farm,  and  was  treated  generally  by  our  neigh- 
bors with  great  contempt,  because  she  insisted  on 
maintaining  her  self-respect  and  personal  dignity, 
notwithstanding  her  poverty.  I  had  a  great  affection 
for  her,  because  I  found  her  a  woman  of  intelligence 
and  refinement.  I  visited  her  one  evening,  when  I 
was  in  great  distress  of  mind,  and  told  her  my  fears 
and  my  resolutions.  She  heard  me  with  great  pa- 
tience, till  I  had  concluded  my  story. 

"  My  poor  boy,"  she  replied,  **  God  has  been  good 
to  you,  and  has  no  doubt  gracious  designs  towards 
you.  He  means  to  use  you  for  a  purpose  of  his  own, 
and  you  must  be  faithful  to  his  inspirations.  But 
go  not  with  the  Methodists  or  with  any  of  the  sects. 
They  are  New  Lights,  and  not  to  be  trusted.  The 
Christian  religion  is  not  new,  and  Christians  have  ex- 
isted from  the  time  of  Christ.  These  New  Lights  are 
of  yesterday.  You  yourself  know  the  founder  of  the 
Christian  sect,  and  I  myself  knew  personally  both 
George  Whitfield  and  John  Wesley,  the  founders  of 
Methodism.     Neither  can  be  right,  for  they  come 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH. 


jou  join  «„;  bod,  c  tnl^ta  7  r*" 
Jnd  out  and  join^onc  thaVbeg  n\?h"Jr  ^'l 
h.a  apo..  e,,  and  ha,  continuedTo  ,2.^  J"  ""^ 
*.th«ut  change  of  doctrine  or  woUin  H  """' 

own  times.     Y„u  „■,,,  «„ ,    '  ''""'"P  ^"wn  to  our 

'"«'  bod,,  and  „«::'  e  e'e,  "  ^  f^T  '^•"■ 
«nd  you  wi„  find  rest  and  Xior  Butt^  ''' 
of  "ects  and  New  Lights •  thZS»'  f  '  ^"""^ 
promises,  bu,  in  the  f  nl  .^  i!  '""'''  ^•'"  ^''^ 
own  destruction."  "*""*  y<"«  «»  your 

I  was  some  twelve   years  oM  „.  »i.    .. 
words  made  a  deep  impSn  """''  ^"^  ""« 

-ueic  me  as  relSZ-Z^Zlt  J'"' 
prevented  me  from    ever  beinTl  ^.""-kthe, 

Protestant,  or  a  thorougIgoC^L?";"'"''•  '"'"'^ 
was  not  a  Catholic  bnt  L     ^  "^  ^''«"-     She 

"■ough  I  knew  U  not  then  '"■^"'"'"'  "  """  *'""'', 
eonsistentl,  „rge.  L^rLri^a'?"''"  """ 
tionalist,  and  held  only  the  vj!  !  V  ^""Srega- 
hood  were  generallv^l;  ..,  "'f  "'^"'^  '"  ™y  boy- 
Order  of  nL"S  ~^-  by  the  old  Standing 

'he  views  of  the  Ep  ^^fT  """"^o"^  were 
tained  a  conceptiofo7fh/ch      .""T'  ^'"'^  ^«- 

tbat  Christ  had  Lselffounded  a  S     ^         ''  '"' 
■'«  order,  and  given  itTt7    ..*  "'''  ^"'"blished 

'bat  it  was  neefsi:;  l    eirT-'  »",^  *-«bt 

»aved.    The  loose  noLs  of  7  <^.     '"  •"■'^'"  *»  be 

'^  and  transeendenlli  m     !'      "'"''''  ""^  '""»«- 

their  descendants,  were  the'nT'"  """"""»  """"g 

,  were  then  unknown.     They  were 


10 


THE   CONViSRT. 


as  rigid  and  as  consistent  churchmen  in  their  way 
as  the  Anglicans^  and  even  more  so. 

But  time  went  on,  and  after  I  was  fourteen  years 
of  age,  I  was  thrown  upon  a  new  world,  into  the 
midst  of  new  and  strange  scenes,  and  exposed  to  new 
and  corrupting  influences.  I  fell  in  with  new  sec- 
taries, universalists,  deists,  atheists  and  nothingarians, 
as  they  are  called  with  us,  who  profess  no  particular 
religion.  I  still  held  fast  to  the  belief  in  my  need  of 
religion,  and  there  were  times  v«rhen  my  earlier  feel- 
ings revived,  and  I  enjoyed  my  silent  meditations. 
But  my  young  head  became  confused  with  the  con- 
tradictory opinions  I  heard  advanced,  with  the  doubts 
and  denials  to  which  I  listened,  and  for  a  time  my 
mind  was  darkened,  and  I  half  persuaded  myself 
that  all  religion  was  a  delusion — the  work  of  priest- 
craft or  statecraft.  I  was  in  a  labyrinth  of  doubt, 
with  no  Ariadne's  thread  to  guide  me  out  to  the  light 
of  day.  I  was  miserable,  and  knew  not  where  to 
turn  for  relief,  I  felt  that  my  own  reason  was  in- 
sufficient to  guide  me ;  and  the  more  I  attempted  by 
it  alone  to  arrive  at  truth,  the  farther  I  went 
astray,  and  the  more  uncertain  and  perplexed  I 
became. 

One  day,  when  I  was  about  nineteen  years  of  age, 
I  was  passing  by  a  Presbyterian  meeting-house.  It 
was  Sunday,  and  the  people  were  feathering  for  the 
service.  The  thought  struck  me  that  I  would  go  in 
and  join  with  them.  It  was  a  beautiful  September 
day,  in  Malta,  Saratoga  County,  New  York.  The  air 
was  soft  and  balmy,  the  sky  was  clear  and  serene, 


childhojd  and  youth. 


11 


new  sec- 


and  it  seemed  as  if  all  nature  was  enjoying  its  sweet 
Sabbath-day  repose.  1  went  into  the  meeting-house : 
it  was  long  since  I  had  been  in  a  place  of  worship. 
The  singing  was,  perhaps,  not  very  good,  but  it 
soothed  me,  while  it  affected  me  even  to  tears.  1 
listened  reverently  to  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures, 
to  the  prayer,  and  to  the  sermon.  There  was  nothing 
iu  the  sermon  that  I  remember.  It  was  a  common- 
place affair.  But  I  went  out  from  that  meeting- 
house much  affected,  and  feeling  that  I  had  missed 
my  way.  As  I  pursued  my  journey,  I  could  not 
help  asking  myself  what  I  had  gained  by  my  specu- 
lations, and  why  it  was  that  I  must  have  no  sympathy 
with  my  kind ;  why  I  must  stand  alone,  and  find 
no  belief  to  sustain  me,  and  have  no  worship  to 
refresh  me  ?  . 

I  have,  said  I,  in  my  self-communing,  done  my 
best  to  find  the  truth,  to  experience  religion,  and 
to  lead  a  religious  life,  yet  here  I  am  without  faith, 
without  hope,  without  love.  I  know  not  what  to  be- 
lieve. I  know  not  what  to  do.  I  know  not  whence 
I  came,  wliy  I  am  here,  or  whither  I  go.  My  life  is 
a  stream  that  flows  out  of  darkness  into  darkness. 
The  world  is  dark  to  me,  and  not  a  ray  of  light  even 
for  one  instant  relieves  it.  My  heart  is  sad,  and  I 
see  nothing  to  hope  for,  or  to  live  for.  For  me  heaven 
is  dispeopled,  and  the  earth  is  a  desert,  a  barren 
waste.  Why  is  this  so?  Why  does  my  heart  re-* 
bel  against  the  speculations  of  my  mind  ?  If  doubt 
is  all  there  is  for  me,  why  cannot  I  discipline  my 
feelings  into  submission  to  it  ?     Why  this  craving  to 


finr 


12 


THE  CONVEKT. 


!: 


believe,  when  there  is  nothing  to  be  believed  f  Why 
this  longing  for  sympathy,  when  there  is  nothing  to 
respond  to  my  heart  ?  Why  this  thirst  for  an  un- 
bounded good,  when  there  is  no  good,  when  all  is  a 
mere  show,  an  illusion,  and  nothing  is  real?  Have 
I  not  mistaken  my  way  ? 

Was  I  not  told  in  the  outset  that,  if  I  followed  my 
own  reason,  it  would  lead  me  astray,  that  I  should 
lose  all  belief,  and  find  myself  involved  in  universal 
doubt  and  uncertainty?  Has  it  not  been  so?  In 
attempting  to  follow  the  light  of  reason  alone,  have  I 
not  lost  faith,  lost  the  light  of  revelation,  and  plunged 
myself  into  spiritual  darkness?  I  did  not  believe 
what  these  people  said,  and,  yet,  were  they  not  right  ? 
They  were.  They  told  me  to  submit  my  reason  to 
revelation.  I  will  do  so.  I  am  incapable  of  direct- 
ing myself.  I  must  have  a  guide.  I  will  hear  the 
Church.  I  will  surrender,  abnegate  my  own  reason, 
which  hitherto  has  only  led  me  astray,  and  make 
myself  a  member  of  the  Church,  and  do  what  she 
commands  me. 

In  a  few  days  I  told  my  experience  to  the  Pres- 
byterian minister  of  the  town  where  I  was  pursuing 
my  academic  studies,  went  the  same  day,  at  his  re« 
quest,  and  told  it  to  the  Session  of  his  church,  and 
the  Sunday  following  was  baptized  and  received  into 
the  Presbyterian  communion.  I  did  not  ask  whether 
the  Presbyterian  Church  was  the  true  Church  or  not, 
for  the  Church  question  had  not  yet  been  fairly  raised 
in  my  mind ;  and  as  it  did  not  differ  essentially  from 
the  Standing  Order,  and  claimed  to   be   the   true 


,  i 


CHILDHOOD   AND   YOUTH. 


13 


Church,  and  was  counted  respectable,  I  was  satisfied. 
What  it  believed  was  of  little  consequence,  since  I 
had  resolved  to  abnegate  my  own  reason,  and  take 
the  Church  for  my  guide.  My  proceeding  was 
precipitate,  but  after  all  was  not  rash,  for  it  was 
logical,  and  justified  by  the  resolution  I  had  taken. 
So  in  October,  1822,  I  became  a  member  of  the 
Presbyterian  church,  Ballston,  Saratoga  County, 
New  York, 


^rrr 


V 


CHAPTER  11. 

PKESBYTEIilAN    EXPERIENCE. 

The  Monday  following  my  reception  into  tbe  Pres- 
byterian communion  we  had  a  covenant  meeting,  or 
a  meeting  of  all  the  members  of  the  church.  The 
Presbyterians,  like  most  of  the  Protestant  sects  in 
this  country,  adopt  the  doctrine  of  the  old  Donatists, 
that  the  Church  is  composed  of  the  elect,  the  just,  or 
the  saints  only,  and  they  therefore  distinguish  be- 
tween the  church  and  the  congregation,  or  between 
those  who  are  held  to  be  saints,  and  those  held  to  be 
sinners ;  that  is,  between  those  who  profess  to  have 
been  regenerated,  and  those  who  make  no  such  pre- 
tension, although  they  may  have  been  baptized.  The 
church  members,  to  the  number  of  about  six  hundred, 
came  together  on  Monday,  and  after  being  addressed 
by  the  pastor,  and  stirred  up  to  greater  zeal  for  the 
promotion  of  Presbyterianism,  renewed  their  cove- 
nant obligations,  and  bound  themselves  to  greater 
efforts  for  the  conversion  of  sinners,  the  common 
name  given  to  all  not  of  the  sect,  even  though 
members  of  the  congregation,  and  born  of  Presby- 
terian parents.  In  this  meeting  we  all  solemnly 
pledged  ourselves,  not  only  to  pray  for  the  conversion 
of  sinners,  but  to  mark  them  wherever  we  met  them. 


PRESBYTERIAN   EXPERIENCE. 


16 


to  avoid  them,  to  have  no  intercourse  with  them  that 
could  be  helped,  and  never  to  speak  to  them  except 
to  admonish  them  of  their  sins,  or  so  far  as  it  should 
be  necessary  on  business.     There  was  to  be  no  inter- 
change of  social  or  neighborly  visits  between  us  and 
them,  and  we  were  to  have  even  business  relations 
with  them  only  when  absolutely  i^ecessary.    We  were  ' 
by  our  manner  to  show  all,  not  members  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church,  that  we  regarded  them  as  the  ene- 
mies of  God,  and  therefore  as  our  enemies,  as  persons 
hated  by  God,  and  therefore  hated  by  us;  and   we 
were,  even  in  business  relations,  always  to  give  the 
preference  to  church  members,  and,  as  far  as  possible, 
without  sacrificing  our  own  interests,  to  treat  those 
not  members  as  outcasts  from  society,  as  pariahs ;  and 
thus,  by  appeals  to  their  business  interests,  their  social 
feelings,  and  their  desire  to  stand  well  in  the  com- 
munity, to  compel  them  to  join   the   Presbyterian 
Church.     The  meeting  was  animated  by  a  singular 
mixture  of  bigotry,  uncharitableness,  apparent  zeal 
for  God^s  glory,  and  a  shrewd  regard  to  the  interests 
of  this  world. 

About  the  time  I  speak  of,  and  for  several  years 
after,  meetings  of  the  sort  I  have  described,  were 
common  in  the  Presbyterian  churches ;  and  a  move- 
ment was  made,  in  1827,  to  induce  all  the  members 
throughout  tlie  Union  to  pledge  themselves  to  non- 
intercourse  with  the  rest  of  the  community,  except 
for  their  conversion,  and  to  refuse  in  the  common 
business  affairs  of  life  to  patronize  any  one  not  a 
member  of  the  church.     How  far  it  succeeded,  I  am 


irrrrpr 


I! 


16 


THE   CONVERT. 


not  informed ;  but  as^  taking  the  country  at  large, 
the  Presbyterians  were  but  a  small  minority,  and  by 
no  means  able  to  control  its  business  operations,  I 
suppose  it  was  only  partially  successful,  and  its 
abettors  had  to  soften  their  rules  a  little  so  as  to  bring 
within  the  privileged  the  members  of  the  other 
Evangelical  sects. 

It  may  readily  be  believed  that  the  exhibition  I 
saw  was  not  over  and  above  pleasing  to  me,  and  that 
it  was  only  with  a  wry  face  that  I  took  the  pledges 
with  the  rest.  I  was  in  for  it,  and  I  would  do  as 
the  others  did.  I  saw  at  once  that  I  had  made  a 
mistake,  that  I  had  no  sympathy  with  the  Presbyte- 
rian spirit,  and  should  need  a  long  and  severe  training 
to  sour  and  elongate  my  visage  sufficiently  to  enjoy 
the  full  confidence  of  my  new  brethren.  Every  day's 
experience  proved  it.  In  our  covenant  we  had  bound 
ourselves  to  watch  over  one  another  with  fraternal 
affection.  I  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  this 
meant  that  we  were  each  to  be  a  spy  upon  the  others, 
and  to  rebuke,  admonish,  or  report  them  to  the  Ses- 
sion. My  whole  life  became  constrained.  I  dared  not 
trust  myself,  in  the  presence  of  a  church  member,  to 
a  single  spontaneous  emotion ;  I  dared  not  speak  in 
my  natural  tone  of  voice,  and  if  I  smiled,  I  expected 
to  be  reported.  The  system  of  espionage  in  some 
European  countries  is  bad  enough,  and  it  is  no 
pleasant  reflection  that  the  man  you  are  talking  with 
may  be  a  mouchard,  and  report  your  words  to  the 
JPr^fet  de  Police;  but  that  is  nothing  to  what  one 
must  endure  as  a  Presbyterian,  unless  he  has  enough 


PKESBrrERIAN   EXFKKIEXCE. 


if 


of  malignity  to  find  an  indemnification  for  being 
spied  in  spying  others.  We  were  allowed  no  liberty, 
and  dared  enjoy  ourselves  only  by  stealth.  The 
most  rigid  Catholic  ascetic  never  imagined  a  disci- 
pline a  thousandth  part  as  rigid  as  the  discipline  to 
which  I  was  subjected.  The  slightest  deviation  was 
a  mortal  sin,  the  slightest  forgetfulness  was  enough 
to  send  me  to  hell.  I  must  not  talk  with  sinners ;  I 
must  take  no  pleasure  in  social  intercourse  with  per- 
sons, however  moral,  amiable,  well-bred,  or  worthy, 
if  not  members  of  the  Church ;  I  was  forbidden  to 
read  books  written  by  others  than  Presbyterians,  and 
commanded  never  to  inquire  into  my  belief  as  a 
Presbyterian,  or  to  reason  on  it,  or  about  it. 

I  tried  for  a  year  or  two  to  stifle  my  discontent, 
to  silence  my  reason,  to  repress  my  natural  emotions, 
to  extinguish  my  natural  affections,  and  to  submit 
patiently  to  the  Calvinistic  discipline.  I  spent  much 
time  in  prayer  and  meditation,  I  read  pious  books, 
and  finally  plunged  myself  into  my  studies  with  a 
view  of  becoming  a  Presbyterian  minister.  But  it 
would  not  do.  I  had  joined  the  Church  because  1 
had  despaired  of  myself,  and  because,  despairing  of 
reason,  I  had  wished  to  submit  to  authority.  If  the 
Presbyterian  Church  had  satisfied  me  that  she  had 
authority,  was  authorized  by  Almighty  God  to  teach 
and  direct  me,  I  could  have  continued  to  submit ;  but 
while  she  exercised  the  most  rigid  authority  over  me, 
she  disclaimed  all  authority  to  teach  me,  and  remit- 
ted me  to  the  Scriptures  and  private  judgment. 
'•  We  do  not  ask  you  to  take  this  as  your  creed," 


[^ 


THE   CONVKRT. 


said  my  pastor,  on  giving  me  a  copy  of  the  Presby- 
lerian  Confession  of  Faith  j  "  we  do  not  give  you  this 
its  a  summary  of  the  doctrines  you  must  hold,  but  as 
iin  excellent  summary  of  the  doctrines  which  we  be- 
lieve the  Scriptures  teach.  What  you  are  to  believe 
is  the  Bible.  You  must  take  the  Bible  as  your 
creed,  and  read  it  with  a  prayerful  mind,  begging 
the  Holy  Ghost  to  aid  you  to  understand  it  aright." 
But  while  the  Church  refused  to  take  the  responsi- 
bility of  telling  me  what  doctrines  I  must  believe, 
while  she  sent  me  to  the  Bible  and  private  judgment, 
she  yet  claimed  authority  to  condemn  and  excom- 
municate me  as  a  heretic,  if  I  departed  from  the 
standard  of  doctrine  contained  in  her  Confession. 

This  I  regarded  as  unfair  treatment.  It  subjected 
me  to  all  the  disadvantages  of  authority  without  any 
of  its  advantages.  The  Church  demanded  that  I 
should  treat  her  as  a  true  mother,  while  she  was  free 
to  treat  me  only  as  a  stepson,  or  even  as  a  stranger. 
Be  one  thing  or  another,  said  I ;  either  assume  the 
authority  and  the  responsibility  of  teaching  and 
directing  me,  or  leave  me  with  the  responsibility  my 
ireedom.  If  you  have  authority  from  God,  avow  it, 
and  exercise  it.  I  am  all  submission.  I  will  hold 
what  you  say,  and  do  what  you  bid.  If  you 
have  not,  then  say  so,  and  forbear  to  call  me 
to  an  account  for  differing  from  you,  or  disregarding 
your  teachings.  Either  bind  me  or  loose  me.  Do 
not  mock  me  with  a  freedom  which  is  no  freedom, 
or  with  an  authority  which  is  illusory.  If  yon  claim 
authority  over  my  faith,  tell  me  what  I  must  believe, 


VUKSi  VTKIMAN    I-Xl'LIMKNCR. 


1!) 


and  do  not  throw  upon  me  the  labor  and  responsi- 
bility of  forming  a  creed  for  myself;  if  you  do  not, 
if  you  send  me  to  the  Bible  and  private  judgment, 
to  find  out  the  Christian  faith  the  best  way  I  can, 
do  not  hold  me  obliged  to  conform  to  your  standards, 
or  assume  the  right  to  anathematize  me  for  departing 
from  them. 

My  position  was  a  painful  one,  and  I  could  not 
endure  it.  I  had  gained  nothing,  but  lost  much,  by 
joining  the  Presbyterian  Church.  I  had  given  up  the 
free  exercise  of  ray  own  reason  for  the  sake  of  an 
authoritative  teacher,  and  had  obtained  no  such 
teacher.  I  had  despaired  of  finding  the  truth  by 
my  own  reason,  and  had  now  nothing  better,  nor 
so  good,  because  I  could  not  exercise  it  freely. 
Certainly  I  had  been  too  hasty,  and  reckoned  without 
my  host.  After  all,  what  reason  had  I  to  regard  this 
Presbyterian  Church  as  the  true  Church  of  Christ  ? 
*^  Go  not  after  the  New  Lights,"  said  my  old  Congre- 
ationalist  friend.  Are  not  these  Presbyterians  New 
Lights,  as  much  as  the  Methodists  and  the  Christians  ? 
If  our  Lord  founded  a  Church  and  has  a  Church  on 
earth,  it  must  reach  back  to  his  time,  and  come  down 
in  unbroken  succession  from  the  apostles.  But  the 
Presbyterian  Church  is  a  recently  formed  body,  not 
thr^e  hundred  years  old.  It  was  founded  in  Scotland 
by  men  who  had  been  Roman  Catholics,  and  who  had 
deserted  the  faith  in  which  they  had  been  reared ;  and 
in  England,  by  men  who  had  belonged  to  the  Church 
of  England,  which  itself  had  broken  off  from  the 
Catholic  Church.     Were  these  men  authorized  by 


^  v 


20 


THE   CONVERT. 


an  express  commission  from  God  f  Did  they  act  by 
authority  t  or  did  they  follow  their  own  private 
judgment,  and  against  the  authority  which  they  had 
previously  recognized  ?  The  latter  certainly.  Then 
what  reason  have  I  for  regarding  the  church  they 
founded  as  the  Church  of  Christ  f 

I  was  answered  that  the  Church  of  Christ  had  be- 
come corrupt,  and  been  for  a  long  series  of  ages  per- 
verted to  a  papistical  and  prelatical  Church,  and  these 
men  were  reformers,  and  simply  labored  to  restore 
the  Church  to  its  primitive  purity  and  simplicity. 
But  had  they  a  warrant  from  Christ  to  do  that  f  Or 
did  they  act  on  their  own  responsibility,  without 
warrant  ?  If  you  say  the  former,  where  is  the  proof  ? 
If  the  latter,  how  can  their  acts  bind  me  ?  Am  not  I 
a  man,  and  as  a  man  have  I  not  as  much  right 
to  follow  my  private  opinion  as  they  had  to  follow 
theirs  ?  But  they  follow  the  Bible.  Be  it  so.  But 
was  it  the  Bible  as  they  understood  it,  or  as  it  was 
understood  by  their  Catholic  predecessors  and  con- 
temporaries ? — ^You  forget,  the  Catholic  Church  re- 
jected the  Bible,  and  did  not  follow  it  at  all. — Yet 
she  preserved  the  Bible  and  taught  that  it  was  given 
by  inspiration  of  God,  and  it  was  from  her  that  the 
Reformers  got  it.  She  did  not  own  that  she  rejected 
the  Scriptures,  or  that  she  taught,  or  allowed  any- 
thing to  be  taught,  inconsistent  with  them.  How 
know  I  that  her  understanding  of  the  Bible  was  not 
as  good  as  the  understanding  of  it  by  the  Reformers  f 
They  thought  differently  from  her,  but  were  they 
infallible?  If  they  had  a  right  to  break  from  her  and 


PKKSBYTKMIAX    KXrERIE5€E. 


n 


set  up  their  private  understanding  of  Scripture,  why 
have  I  not  the  right  to  break  from  them  and  from 
the  Presbyterian  Church,  follow  my  private  under 
standing,  and  set  up  a  church  of  my  own  ? 

It  was  clear  to  me  that  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
though  the  church  of  one  class  of  the  Reformers,  was 
not  and  could  not  be  the  Church  of  Christ,  and  there- 
fore it  could  have  no  legitimate  authority  over  me. 
If  Christ  had  a  church  on  earth  which  he  had  founded, 
and  which  had  authority  to  teach  in  his  name,  it 
was  evidently   the   Roman   Catholic  Church.     But 
that  Church,  of  course,  was  out  of  the  question.     It 
was  everything  that  was  vile,  base,  odious,  and  de- 
moralizing.    It  had  been  condemned  by  the  judg- 
ment of  mankind,  and  the  thought  of  becoming  a 
Roman  Catholic  found  and  could  find  at  that  time 
no  entrance  into  my  mind.     I  should  sooner  have 
thought   of  turning   Jew,    Mahometan,    Gentoo,  or 
Buddhist.     What,  then,  was  I  to  do  ?      There  was  no 
alternative.     It   was    the    Catholic    Church     or   no 
Church.     All  the  so-called  Protestant  churches  were 
New  Lights,  were  of  yesterday,  founded  by  fallible 
men,  without  any  warrant  from  God,  without  any 
authority  but  their  private  interpretation  of  Scrip- 
ture.    I  cannot  accept  any  one  of  them  as  having 
any  authority  to  teach  or  direct  me.     Being  the  work 
of  men,  honest  men,  learned  men,  pious  men,  if  you 
will,  they  have  no  authority  over  my  conscience,  and 
no  right  to  hold  me  amenable  to  them.     Then,  since 
I  cannot  be  a  Catholic,  I  must  be  a  no-church  man, 
and  deny  all  churches,  make  war  upon  every  sect 


mr 


22 


•  THE  COMVfiRT. 


claiming  the  slightest  authority  in  matters  of  failh 
or  conscience. 

I  was  at  this  time  about  twenty-one  years  of  age. 
The  question  with  me  was  not  what,  but  whom^  I  was 
to  believe  ;  not  what  doctrines  I  must  embrace,  but 
what  authority  I  was  to  obey^  or  on  what  authority  I 
was  to  take  my  belief.  As  to  particular  doctrines, 
they  did  not  trouble  me.  I  paid  very  little  attention 
to  them.  I  regarded  them  of  minor  consideration, 
and  never  entered  very  deeply  into  their  investiga- 
tion. The  important  thing  with  me,  from  the  first, 
was,  to  find  out  the  rule  of  faith.  I  had  not  found  it 
in  ray  youthful  and  uninformed  reason,  and  had  sub- 
mitted to  the  Presbyterian  Church,  hoping  to  find  it 
in  her  authority.  I  failed  to  find  it  there,  and,  the 
Catholic  Church  being  out  of  the  question,  I  was 
forced,  by  the  necessity  of  the  case,  to  fall  back  on 
the  Scriptures  .interpreted  by  my  own  private  judg- 
ment for  myself. 

In  becoming  a  Presbyterian  on  the  ground  I  did, 
I  committed  a  mistake,  and  placed  myself  in  a  false 
position,  which  it  took  me  years  to  rectify.  It  was 
a  capital  blunder.  Not  that  I  was  insincere,  or 
governed  by  bad  motives,  but  because,  feeling  the 
insufficiency  of  my  own  reason  to  guide  me,  I  turned 
my  back  on  reason,  and  took  up  with  what  I  sup- 
posed to  be  authority  without  a  rational  motive  for 
believing  it  divinely  commissioned.  As  fa?  as  X 
could,  I  abnegated  my  own  rational  nature,  denied 
reason  to  make  way  for  revelation,  rational  conviction 
to  make  way  for  authority.    Unhappily,  the  religious 

\ 


ittera  of  faith 


I'BKSByTKKUN   KX,.KK,KNCd. 


l"-e8e,.ted,  not  each  „«  tho  nV  "  '®  '""^  "'" 

««antago„«tical,tl.oo„oto  'r'  """"P «"'«»''  ""'t 
'load  body  of  the  other  AH  tt\°"'^  "^"^  "'" 
i"to  relation,  eithe    denied  """' '''""»  ^  «=«">« 

-vciation,o;rev:Li:no:rer:r''^  '^•^^- 

'oaft  such  was  their  tende!cv      tL       ^'T'    ^' 
clmmed  against  reason   used  Tj  ""^  "'"'^  «'«- 

«nd  «.es  assign^aX  rnXT'"'  "''^'•"' 
reason  why  reason  ouWu  noUo  h  ^' /  ""^'^  ^"^^ 
class  either  openly  de-^ed  alT,  "''''•     '^'"^  ''"'«'• 

or,  admitting^t  k  woi        ''?™''""''''  ^«^«'»«0". 
-pernat„raLs,:ndTrlh7"'"1."'^»^  ""  ''« 

of  the  natural  order,  and^t'  dT:?:^  "iT  ''"■^"^ 
of  natural  reason.  •''"''*'' "'o  ">e  dominion       ■ 

This  was  the  natural  result  nf  n  i  •  • 
-  the   dominant   doctrine    'f  /he  W™'  "''"'' 
P'o;    and,    so    far  as    thev   L         ^'"^"''"'^  Peo- 
Ch-tianity  at  all  as  a      IlerrV"''  "f "'  "^ 
majority  of  them,  whether  th7         ^'""'  ""'  ^^««'  • 
-0  even   yet  Ca  vinTsU      T^  '""''"  °'"  '*J<'<='  ''' 
"«ni«y  always  throrh   n  ,^''?  "PP^ehend   Chris- 

underCalvinLieS     T  r'T"."  'P^'='"'"«»'   ""^ 
of  Calvinism  is,  that  mln  by  hiSr:':'  '"'""° 
spiritual   faculties,    and    became    f    II       !'  "'""™' 
'"capable  by  nature  of  anvlt        ^      ^    ''^P'-''^^''' 
conceived  therefore  as  oZ  1,?  *""  ''"•     ^''''co  '^ 

'-  -  opposed  torasTr  1 1X1  t"'  '''''■ 

^  natuie  that  is  total!  v 


H 


ll 


•2[ 


TOE   CONVERT. 


depraved  cannot  be  redeemed,  but  must  be  sup- 
planted or  superseded  by  grace ;  a  totally  depraved 
reason  is  incapable  of  a  rational  act,  and  therefore 
revelation  cannot  be  addressed  to  it  to  supply  its 
weakness,  or  to  place  it  in  relation  with  truth  lying 
in  an  order  above  its  natural  reach  j  but,  if  conceived 
at  all,  must  be  conceived  as  a  substitute  for  reason, 
as  discarding  reason,  and  taking  its  place.  Hence  , 
it  is  ray  countrymen,  receiving  their  first  notions 
of  Christianity  through  Calvinism,  are  never  able  to 
reconcile  faith  and  reason,  or  to  harmonize  nature  and 
grace.  They  feel,  against  the  dictates  of  common- 
sense,  that  they  must  either  deny  the  one  or  the 
other.  Some  try  to  assert  both,  but  find  that  their 
life  is  one  of  painful  struggle  precisely  where  peace 
and  repose  are  promised  by  the  Gospel. 

In  general,  those  Protestants  commonly  called 
Orthodox,  when  they  are  sincere  and  earnest,  when 
their  religion  is  not  put  on  or  retained  for  a  sinister 
purpose,  retain  their  belief  only  by  refusing  to  ex- 
amine its  grounds.  The  eminent  Dr.  Payson,  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  Calvinistic  ministers  of 
New  England  in  the  first  half  of  the  present  cen- 
tury, records  in  his  diary  his  temptations  to  doubt 
even  the  Divine  existence,  and  says  that  the  devil 
suggested  to  him  arguments  against  the  existence 
of  God,  which,  if  published,  would  shake  the  faith 
of  more  than  one  half  of  Christendom.  I  cite  from 
memory,  but  believe  his  expression  was  much  stronger. 
My  own  Presbyterian  pastor  told  me,  time  and  again^ 
not  to  allow  myself  to  read  any  book  touching  tho 


PJiKSUYTERIAN    EXPEIilENCE. 


25 


ground:*  of  my  belief  as  a  Presbyterian,  or  even 
to  think  on  the  subject.  Large  numbers  of  Calvin- 
itits,  in  their  confidential  intercourse  with  me,  have 
assured  me  that  the  only  way  in  which  they  could 
retain  their  faith,  their  belief  even  in  revelation, 
was  by  refusing,  even  in  their  own  minds,  to  reason 
on  the  subject.  Their  belief,  as  far  as  belief  they 
liave,  is  and  must  be  a  blind  belief,  an  effort  of  the 
will  alone,  without  any  assent  of  the  understanding ; 
for  they  start  with  the  assumption  that  reason  is 
totally  depraved,  and  therefore  a  false  light,  a  de- 
ceptive guide.  The  gravest  objection  to  Calvinism 
is  its  denunciation  of  reason,  and  its  attempt  to 
build  up  a  system  of  theology  on  revelation  made  to 
an  irrational  subject.         ■♦    • 

God  gave  me  reason,  I  said,  in  my  self-commun- 
ings.  It  is  my  distinguishing  faculty,  and  to  abnegate 
it  is  to  surrender  my  essential  character  as  a  man, 
and  to  sink  myself,  theoretically,  to  the  level  of  the 
brute  creation.  Revelation,  if  revelation  there  be, 
must  be  made  to  me  as  a  man,  as  a  rational  subject. 
Take  away  my  reason,  and  you  can  as  well  make  a 
revelation  to  an  ox  or  a  horse,  a  pig  or  an  ass,  as  to 
It  demands  reason  to  receive  revelation,  and 


me. 


the  natural  to  receive  the  supernatural.  If  there 
is  no  natural,  there  can  be  no  supernatural.  If  I  am 
totally  depraved,  I  am  incapable  of  being  redeemed  j 
and  if  my  reason  is  deceptive  and  never  to  be  trusted, 
how  am  I  to  know  that  what  I  take  to  be  revelation 
is  revelation  f  It  is  God's  word,  you  say,  and  God 
cannot  lie.     But  how  am  I  to  know  that  it  is  God's 


M 


JHE  coNVKirr. 


word,  or  that  there  is  any  God  at  all,  if  my  reason  is 
totally  depraved,  and  to  be  discarded  as  a  false  light  ? 
No,  no,  it  will  not  do.  We  cannot  build  faith  on 
skepticism  j  and  jast  in  proportion  as  we  discredit 
reason,  we  must  discredit  revelation.  Reason  must 
at  least  be  the  preamble  to  faith,  and  nature  must 
precede  and  be  presupposed  by  grace. 

I  must  then,  I  continued,  revoke  the  act  of  sur- 
render which  I  made  of  my  reason  to  authority  on 
entering  the  Presbyterian  Church ;  for  it  was  an 
irrational,  an  unmanly  act.  I  offered  in  it  no  reason- 
able obedience  or  submission  to  God.  It  was  a  blind 
submission,  and  really  no  submission  of  my  reason 
at  all.  It  was  a  cowardly  act,  the  act  of  an  intel- 
lectual desperado,  although  the  motive  was  good.  I 
reclaim  my  reason,  I  reclaim  my  manhood,  and 
henceforth  I  will,  let  come  what  may,  be  true  to  my 
reason,  and  preserve  the  rights  and  dignity  of  my 
human  nature.  This  resolution,  of  course,  separated 
me  from  Presby terianism.  The  peculiar  Presbyterian 
doctrines  I  had  never  believed  or  professed  to  believe, 
except  on  the  authority  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 
Grant  her  authority  from  God  to  teach,  I  was  logician 
enough  to  understand  that  I  must  believe  whatever 
she  taught,  whether  I  could  or  could  not  leconcile 
it  with  my  own  reason.  That  authority  taken  away, 
then  I  was  not  bound  to  believe  her  doctrines,  unless 
I  found  reasons  for  doing  so  elsewhere. 

The  doctrine  of  unconditional  election  and  re- 
probation, and  the  doctrine  that  God  foreordains  the 
wicked  to  sin  necessarily,  that  he  may  damn  them 


PRESBYTERIAN  EXPERIENCE. 


27 


if  my  reason  is 
3.S  a  false  light  ? 
build  faith  on 
18  we  discredit 
Reason  must 
id  nature  must 

the  act  of  sur- 
;o  authority  on 
for  it  was  an 
in  it  no  reason- 
It  was  a  blind 
I  of  my  reason 
act  of  an  intel- 
e  was  good.     I 
I  manhood;    and 
be  true  to  my 
dignity  of  my 
urse,  separated 
ir  Presbyterian 
ssed  to  believe, 
erian  Church. 
I  was  logician 
eve  whatever 
not  leconcile 
taken  away, 
trines,  unless 

tion   and   re- 

Ireordains  the 

damn  them 


justly,  I  found  difficult  to  swallow,  and  still  more 
difficult  to  digest.  My  honest  pastor  told  me  that 
he  regarded  the  doctrine  as  a  hard  doctrine,  as  re- 
volting to  human  nature,  and  he  had  tried  in  the 
General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  in 
1821,  to  got  it  modified,  or  rescinded  altogether,  but 
failed  by  one  or  two  votes.  The  doctrine  was  re- 
pugnant to  my  reason ;  and  having  settled  it,  that 
revelation  could  never  contain  any  thing  repugnant 
to  reason,  I  rejected  it  without  taking  the  trouble  to 
inquire  whether  it  was  Scriptural  or  not.  It  is 
unreasonable,  it  is  unjust,  and  therefore  cannot  be 
tauglit  in  the  Scriptures,  if  they  are  written  by 
Divine  inspiration.  When  a  Presbyterian,  I  simply 
asked  :  What  does  the  Presbyterian  Church  teach  ? 
But  having  discovered  that  the  Presbyterian  Church 
was  a  self-created  body,  and  without  any  authority 
from  God,  and  having  adopted  reason  as  my  test  or 
criterion  of  truth,  I  asked  simply  :  What  is  or  is  not 
contrary  to  reason  ? 

I  felt,  as  every  thinking  man  feels  and  always 
must  feel,  that  reason  is  insufficient,  and  that,  with 
no  other  guide,  it  is  impossible  to  attain  to  all  truth, 
or  always  to  avoid  all  error;  but  it  was  the  best 
guide  I  had,  and  all  I  could  do  was  to  exercise  it 
freely  and  honestly  upon  all  subjects, — to  give  it 
fair  play,  and  abide  the  result.  I  did  not  absolutely 
reject  the  Scriptures,  nor  absolutely  accept  them. 
As  the  word  of  God,  they  were  infallible  j  but  they 
were  and  could  be  the  word  of  God  only  in  the 
sense  intended  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  that  sense  I 


-\ 


'i 


28 


THE   CONVEUT. 


had  no  infallible  means  of  ascertaining.  I  cotiTd  not^ 
then,  feel  myself  bound  by  the  strict  letter  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  felt  that  I  had  a  right  to  interpret 
them  by  my  own  understanding,  and  to  explaiik 
them  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  natural 
reason.  I  consequently,  without  rejecting  them, 
attenuated  their  practical  authority,  and  made  rea- 
son a  rule  for  them,  instead  of  taking  them,  as  th& 
believer  must,  as  a  rule  for  reason.  I  th;u»  passed 
from  so-called  Orthodox  Christianity  to  wkat  is  some- 
times denominated  Liberal  Christianity.  This  was- 
my  first  notable  change, — a  change  from  a  Super- 
naturalist  to  a  Rationalist.  In  fact,  it  sl)o>uld  not  be 
regarded  so  much  as  a  change  as  the  commiencement 
of  my  intellectual  life,  for  I  was  as  yet  <mly  twenty- 
one  years  of  age. 


*!? 


I.  J 


CHAPTER  III. 


BECOME  A  UNIVERSALIST. 


I  DFD  not  leave  Presbvterianisra  because  I  had  found 
^mother  church,  or  another  system  of  doctrine,  per- 
fectly satisfactory  to  my  reasons-one  by  which  I  felt 
J  could  be  willing  to  live  and  die.  I  rejected  Presby- 
terianism  because  I  had  no  good  reason  for  holding 
it,  and  because  it  could  not  meet  the  want  I  felt  of 
an  authoritative  teacher.  It  did  not  even  claim  to 
i  e  infallible,  conceded  that  it  might  err,  and  could 
■not  give  any  proof  that  it  had  been  instituted  by 
Christ  and  his  apostles,  or  that  its  founders  acted 
oinder  a,  divine  commission.  These  were  sufficient 
reasons  for  not  continuing  a  Presbyterian,  but  not 
Jor  embracing  any  other  particular  sect.  Where, 
ihen,  was  I  to  go?     What  was  I  to  believe? 

I  was  unwilling  to  be  an  unbeliever,  and  felt 
•deeply  the  need  of  having  a  religion  of  some  sort. 
What  should  it  be  ?  Liberal  Christianity  was  a  vague 
^torm,  and  presented  nothing  definite  or  positive.  Its 
^liiof  characteristic  was  the  denial  of  what  was  called 
^)rtliodoxy,  and  taking  nature  and  reason  for  the 
i  iile  of  faith.  The  only  definite  form  under  which  I 
vas  acquainted  with  it  was  that  of  Universalism,  then 
far  Jess  generally  diffused  than  it  is  now.     Prior  to 


yo 


THE   CONVERT. 


becoming  a  Presbyterian,  I  had  read  several  Univer- 
salist  books,  and  been  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of 
Universalism  by  a  sister  of  my  mother,  who  had  in 
her  youth  listened  to  the  preaching  of  Dr.  Elhanan 
Winchester,  one  of  the  earliest  Universalist  preachers 
in  America.  Dr.  Winchester  had  been  a  Calvinistic 
Baptist  minister,  and  Iiad,  while  a  Baptist,  acquired 
considerable  reputation  as  a  zealous,  fervent,  and 
eloquent  preacher, — a  reputation  which  recalled  and 
almost  rivalled  that  of  the  famous  George  Whitfield, 
one  of  the  original  Oxford  Methodists.  He  preached 
in  various  parts  of  the  United  States  and  Great 
Britain,  and  stood  very  high  with  his  sect.  At  the 
very  height  of  his  success  as  a  Baptist,  he  began  to 
doubt  the  doctrine  of  endless  punishment.  Inquiry 
led  him  to  reject  it,  and  to  embrace  the  doctrine  of 
the  final  salvation  or  restoration  of  all  men,  and  even 
of  the  fallen  angels,  thus  reviving  the  doctrine  said 
to  have  been  held  by  Origen  in  the  third  centuiy, 
though  probably  so  said  without  sufficient  warrant. 
He  preached  and  wrote  much  in  defence  of  his 
favorite  tenet,  and,  though  preceded  by  that  eccen- 
tric Irishman,  John  Murray,  the  first  who  avowedly 
preached  universal  salvation  in  the  United  States,  he 
may  be  justly  regarded  as  the  founder  of  American 
Universalism.  He  had  some  pretensions  to  learning, 
but  no  philosophy,  and  very  little  theological  science. 
He  wrote  several  books  in  defence  of  Universal  Re- 
storation, among  which  his  Dialogues^  his  Lectures  on 
Hhe  PrcphecieSf  borrowed  in  great  part  from  a  work  on 
the  same  subject  by  Dr.  Thomas  Newton,  an  Anglican 


r 


>. 


BECOME   A    UiaVEliSALlST. 


31 


divine,  I  believe,  and  an  Epic  Poem,  celebrating 
the  Triumph  of  the  Empire  of  Christ,  were  the  more 
noticeable.  I  forget  the  exact  title  of  the  poem,  but 
I  remember  that  the  author  tells  us  in  the  preface 
that  it  was  written  in  the  course  of  three  months, 
during  his  leisure  moments,  although  it  makes  a 
good-sized  duodecimo  volume  in  close  print,  and 
that,  if  he  had  devoted  all  his  time  to  it,  he  could 
have  written  it  in  a  much  briefer  period.  I  recollect 
nothing  in  the  poem  to  throw  any  doubt  on  this  state- 
ment. The  poem  certainly  was  not  equal  to  the 
Iliad,  Paradise  Lost,  or  the  Divina  Commedia,  and 
not  mucli  superior  to  the  Fredoniad  or  the  Napolead, 
— two  of  our  many  American  Epics  known,  I  fear, 
to  very  few  American  readers. 

My  aunt  had  placed  these  works  in  my  hands  when 
1  was  between  fourteen  and  fifteen  years  of  age,  and 
aided  by  her  brilliant  and  enthusiastic  commentaries, 
ihey  had  shaken  my  early  belief  in  future  rewards 
and  punishments,  and  unsettled  my  mind  on  the  most 
important  points  of  Christian  faith.  Besides  the 
works  of  Mr.  Winchester,  I  had  also  read  a  work  on 
Universal  Salvation,  by  Dr.  Chauncy,  a  learned 
and  highly  esteemed  Congregationalist  minister  in 
the  last  century,  in  Boston,  Massachusetts.  Dr. 
Chauncy  was  the  son  of  President  Chauncy  of 
Harvard  College,  and  was  born  in  Boston,  January  1, 
1705.  He  was  ordained  pastor  of  the  First  Congre- 
gational church  in  Boston,  the  church  in  Chauncy 
Place,  1727,  and  continued  to  be  its  pastor  till  his 
death,  February  10,  1787,  in  the  83d  year  of  his  age. 


ff 


Hi 


;',! 


m 


THK    CONVKUT. 


He  was  strongly  attached  to  the  American  cause  in 
the  struggle  of  the  Colonies  with  the  mother  country, 
and  rendered  it  important  services.  He  was  vehe- 
mently opposed  to  George  Whitfield,  the  New  Lights, 
and  the  religious  enthusiasm  which  Whitfield's 
preaching  excited,  as  also  to  Episcopacy,  which  he 
could  in  no  manner  tolerate.  George  Whitfield  was 
an  Englishman,  a  student  of  Oxford,  and  a  presbyter 
of  the  Anglican  Church.  He  was  one  of  the  original 
Methodists,  and  associated  with  John  Wesley,  from 
whom  he  subsequently  separated  on  the  question  of 
unconditional  election  and  reprobation.  He  visited 
the  Colonies  several  times,  and  finally  died  and  was 
buried  in  Newburyport,  Massachusetts.  In  one  of 
his  numerous  visits  to  this  country,  Dr.  Chauncy  met 
him  as  he  was  landing  on  the  wharf  in  Boston,  and 
taking  him  by  the  hand,  said :  '^  Mr.  Whitfield,  I  am 
sorry  you  have  come  to  this  country.  I  am  sorry  to  see 
you  here."  "  No  doubt  of  it,"  replied  the  missionary, 
"  and  so  is  the  devil."  The  edition  of  Dr.  Chauncy's 
book  which  I  read  was  a  moderate-sized  octavo, 
printed  in  London,  without  the  author's  name,  and  I 
am  not  aware  that  it  has  ever  been  reprinted  in  this 
country.  I  do  not  recollect  the  work  very  distinctly, 
nor  the  precise  ground  on  which  the  author  defends 
the  final  salvation  of  all  men ;  but  my  impression  is 
that  he  urges  it  from  the  universality  of  the  atone- 
ment, and  the  nature  of  pimishment, which  he  holds  is 
purgative  or  reformatory,  not  vindictive.  The  book 
was  marked  by  a  show  of  learning  and  some  ability, 
but  I  thought  it  rather  dull  and  heavily  written. 


BECOME  A    UNIVEUSALIST. 


3a 


About  the  same  time  I  read  another  work,  called 
Calvinistn  Improvedj  written  by  Dr.  Joseph  Hunt- 
ington, pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  in 
Coventry,  Connecticut.  Dr.  Huntington  lived  in 
the  last  century,  and  was  of  the  same  family  with 
the  Hon.  Samuel  Huntington,  one  of  the  signers  of 
the  Declaration  of  American  Independence.  His 
book  was  not  published  till  after  his  death,  and  I  am 
not  aware  that  he  was  ever  suspected  during  his 
lifetime  of  holding  the  doctrine  of  Universal  Salva- 
tion. The  work  has  not  much  method,  but  is  written 
in  a  free,  easy,  flowing,  and  attractive  style.  Tiio 
author  starts  with  the  Calvinistic  premises  of  imputed 
righteousness  and  salvation  by  grace  without  works, 
and  concludes  the  salvation  of  all  men.  He  supposes 
two  covenants :  the  covenant  of  works,  made  bv 
Almighty  God  with  Adam  as  federal  head  of  mankind 
in  the  natural  order;  and  the  covenant  of  grace,  n.ade 
by  the  Father  with  the  Son,  the  Federal  Head  of 
the  human  race  in  the  spiritual  order.  Tlic  Hr.st 
covenant  failed,  and  all  mankind  fell  under  the  \\vn\\\ 
of  God,  died  in  Adam,  and  were  condemned  to  «'\  ii- 
lasting  death;  but  the  Son,  becoming  ineuiuat'-, 
fulfilled  the  covenant  of  works  for  men,  expiated 
the  guilt  incurred  by  the  human  race,  and  under  tii^) 
covenant  of  grace  redeems,  restores,  and  saves  them. 
Works  have  nothing  to  do  with  salvation,  which  is 
a  work  of  pure  grace.  Under  the  covenant  of  works 
no  man  can  be  saved,  and,  if  works  entered  into  the 
covenant  of  grace,  it  would  no  longer  be  a  covenant 
of  grace.     The  sinner  is  saved  by  the  covenant  of 


34 


THE   CONVERT. 


I 


1^1 


grace  alone,  not  in  consideration  of  any  good  thing 
in  him  or  done  by  him.  He  is  saved  solely  by  the 
free  sovereign  act  of  God  imputing  to  him,  or  count- 
ing as  his,  the  righteousness  of  Christ.  This  doctrine 
which  Calvinism  asserts,  but  confines  to  the  elect 
only,  Dr.  Huntington  extends  to  all  men.  He  proves 
from  the  Scriptures  that  the  atonement  was  made 
for  all  men,  and  was  an  ample  and  abundant  satis- 
faction for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world.  Hence,  all 
men  must  be  included  in  the  covenant  of  grace,  not 
a  few  only,  and  Christ  must  be  regarded  as  the  head 
of  every  man.  In  this  covenant  of  grace  God  agrees 
to  reckon  the  sins  of  all  men  as  the  sins  of  Christ, 
and  to  impute  the  righteousness  of  Christ  to  all  who 
have  transgressed.  He  transfers  the  sins  to  Christ, 
and  punishes  them  in  him  ]  and  then,  finding  his  jus- 
tice satisfied,  pardons  the  sinner,  transfers  to  him 
the  righteousness  of  Christ,  counts  him  just  for 
Christ's  sake,  and  receives  him  to  his  peace  and  love. 
In  the  day  of  judgment,  men  will  first  be  judged 
by  the  covenant  of  works,  under  which  all  will  be 
condemned,  for  all  have  failed  to  keep  that  covenant ; 
and  the  Judge,  speaking  in  the  name  of  the  law  of 
works,  shall  say  to  all  the  human  family :  *'  Depart 
from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for 
the  devil  and  his  angels."  They  shall  then  be 
judged  under  the  covenant  of  grace  ;  and  the  Judge, 
in  consideration  of  the  fact  that  the  penalty  incurred 
by  the  breach  of  the  covenant  of  works  has  been 
borne  and  fully  expiated  by  Christ  in  his  own  person, 
shall  say,  speaking  in  the  name  of  free  grace  :  "Come, 


IL 


BECOME   A    UNIVERSALIST. 


35 


ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world.''  Thus  the  law  is  justified  by  the  innocent 
suffering  for  the  guilty,  has  its  full  and  perfect  vindi- 
cation, and  yet  all  men  are  saved, — ^yet,  I  might  add, 
without  personal  sanctity, — a  point,  in  the  author's 
estimation,  of  no  great  importance.  The  good  doctor 
docs  not  shrink  from  making  God  the  author  of  all 
our  actions  whether  good  or  bad ;  and  to  the  objection 
that  sin  is  of  a  personal  nature  and  its  guilt  is  not 
transferable,  he  replies  that  sin  is  no  more  personal 
than  justice,  and  that  it  is  as  easy  for  God  to  trans- 
fer our  sins  to  Christ,  as  it  is  for  him  to  transfer 
Christ's  righteousness  to  us.  Sin  is,  he  says,  God*s 
property,  God  has  the  sovereign  dominion  over  it, 
and  may  do  with  it  what  seems  to  him  good,  and 
"transfer  it  to  whom  he  pleases. 

A  neighbor  put  into  my  hands  also  a  Treatise  on 
the  Atonement  by  Hosea  Ballou.  Mr.  Ballon  was 
a  native  of  New  Hampshire,  originally  a  Calvinistic 
Baptist,  but  he  became  a  Universalist  through  the 
influence  of  some  members  of  his  family,  who  had 
been  converted  directly  or  indirectly  by  the  preach- 
ing and  writings  of  Dr.  Elhanan  Winchester.  He 
was,  I  think,  of  French  descent,  the  son  of  a  small 
Kew-England  farmer,  and  obliged  in  his  youth  to 
assist  his  father  and  elder  brothers  in  the  cultivation 
of  tlie  farm,  and  in  supporting  the  family.  Nature 
Wiis  bountiful  to  him,  both  physically  and  intellectu- 
ally. She  gave  him  a  tall  athletic  frame,  symmet- 
ricil  and  finely  moulded,  handsome  features,  and  an 


ao 


TIIK   C(>NVi.UT. 


air  of  dignity  and  authority.  His  natural  gcMiiuB 
and  ability  fitted  hini  to  take  rank  with  the  most 
distinguished  men  the  country  lias  produced  j  but, 
unhappily,  his  education  was  very  defective,  and  his 
acquired  knowledge  and  information  were  even  to 
he  last  very  limited.  But  his  intellect  was  natu- 
rally acute,  active,  fertile,  and  vigorous.  He  always 
struck  me — and  I  knew  h'lyn  well  in  the  later  years 
of  his  life — as  one  who,  if  he  chose,  might  excel  in 
whatever  he  undertook.  In  his  earlier  years,  he 
was  regarded  as  harsh,  bitter,  and  sarcastic  in  his 
temper ;  but  when  I  knew  him  personally,  he  was 
witty  indeed,  fond  of  his  joke,  like  most  New-Eng 
landers,  but  an  agreeable  and  kind-hearted  old 
gentleman,  very  fond  of  children,  and  possessing 
great  power  to  fascinate  young  men,  and  win  their 
confidence  and  affection.  In  my  boyhood  he  was 
settled  in  Barnard,  Vermont,  about  five  miles  from 
the  old  people  with  whom  I  resided,  and  I  often 
heard  them  speak  of  him,  as  some  of  their  relatives 
belonged  to  his  congregation.  He  was  then  a  young 
man,  but  distinguished.  From  Barnard  he  removed 
to  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,  and  after  a  sliort 
residence  there  he  removed  to  Boston,  where  he 
continued  to  reside  till  his  death,  which  occurred  five 
or  six  years  ago.  He  was  the  patriarch  of  American 
Universalism,  and,  at  the  time  when  I  became  a 
Universalist  minister,  was  its  oracle,  very  nearly  its 
Pope. 

It  is  many  years  since  I  have  seen  a  copy  of  his 
Treatise  on  the  Atonement,  and  I  am  not  certain 


UKCnMI-:   A    UNIVKUSALIST. 


that  I  have  read  it  since  my  youth.  It  gave  a  new 
pliase  to  IJniversulisin.  Winchester,  Chauncy,  Hunt 
ington,  Dan  Foster,  John  Murray,  and  the  Englinh- 
man,  John  Helly,  the  fathers  of  modern  Universal  is  in 
in  Great  IJritain,  Ireland,  and  the  United  States, 
had  been  what  are  called  orthodox  Protestants,  .in  1 
retained  their  early  views  with  the  exception  of  th'i 
hingle  point  of  the  endless  punishment  of  the  wick'  d. 
They  held  the  mysteries  of  the  Trinity,  the  Incarna- 
tion, tlie  expiatory  Atonement,  and  endeavored  to 
prove  the  Hnal  salvation  of  all  men  by  Scriptural 
exegesis,  and  arguments  drawn  from  the  love  and 
mercy  of  God.  Mr.  Ballou  changes  the  whole 
ground,  and  attacks  the  whole  fabric  of  so-called 
Orthodox  Christianity.  He  adopts  Arian  views  as 
to  the  person  of  Christ,  and  labors  throughout  his 
Treatise  to  demolish  the  doctrine  of  satisfaction,  or 
of  an  expiatory  sacrifice.  He  is  the  first  American 
writer  I  am  aware  of,  who  combines  the  doctrines  of 
modern  Unitarians  with  Universalism.  He  main- 
tains that  God  demanded  no  expiation,  that  no  ex- 
piatory sacrifice  was  needed,  for  God  pardons  the 
sinner  on  simple  repentance  and  reformation  of  life, 
and  an  expiatory  sacrifice,  even  if  required,  couhl 
not  have  been  made.  He  excludes  grace,  ail  trans- 
ferable merit  of  the  Head  to  the  members,  and 
maintains  that  grace  is  nothing  but  the  irrevocable 
di^crees  of  God  irresistibly  executing  themseh^es  in 
Jii3  government  of  the  world;  he  denies  free-will, 
denies  accountability,  denies  a  future  judgment, 
denies  all  rewards  and  punisliments,  denies  virtue, 


38 


THE   CONVERT. 


denies  sin^  m  all  except  the  name^  and  consequently 
the  whole  moral  order.  Sin,  according  to  him,  origi- 
nates in  the  flesh,  in  the  body,  and  does  not  affect 
the  soul,  the  spirit,  which  remains  pure,  uncontami- 
nated,  whatever  our  fleshly  defilements, — an  old 
Gnostic  and  Manichsean  heresy,  which  in  early  times 
was  thought  to  open  the  door  to  gross  disorders. 
Sin,  pertaining  only  to  the  body,  cannot  survive  its 
dissolution,  but  is  deposited  with  it  in  the  grave. 
Therefore,  "  he  that  is  dead  is  freed  from  sin." 

This  was  the  ground  on  which  Mr.  Ballou  placed 
his  defence  of  universal  salvation.  Against  the 
doctrine  of  endless  punishment  he  uses  the  various 
Scriptural  arguments  used  by  his  predecessors, 
apparently  without  perceiving  their  irrelevancy.  He 
argues  against  it  from  the  assumed  injustice  of  all 
punishment  not  reformatory  in  its  intention  and 
nature,  and  also  from  the  justice  as  well  as  from  the 
love  of  God.  God  is  the  author  of  all  our  actions, 
and  therefore  of  sin.  He  has  no  right  to  punish  us 
eternally  for  sins  which,  when  he  made  us,  he  not  only 
foresaw,  but  foreordained,  predetermined  us  to  com- 
mit. It  is  clear  that  the  conception  of  grace  does 
not  belong  to  his  system,  and  that  he  demands  the 
salvation  of  all  men,  not  from  the  mercy,  but  from 
he  justice  of  God,  as  a  right,  not  as  a  favor.  These 
views  are  set  forth  and  defended  with  great  freedom 
and  boldness,  with  wonderful  acuteness  and  power, 
in  language,  clear,  simple,  forcible,  and  at  times 
beautiful,  and  even  eloquent.  A  book  fuller  of 
heresies,  and  heresies  of  the  most  deadly  character, 


\ 


UKCO^fE   A   UNlVEUSAUSr. 


39 


not  excepting  Theodore  Parker's  Discourse  of  Matters 
pertaining  to  Religion^  has  probably  never  issued  from 
tlie  American  press,  or  one  better  calculated  to  carry 
away  a  large  class  of  young,  ingenuous,  and  unformed 
minds.     The  heresies  are  indeed  old,  but  they  were 
nearly  all  original  with  the  author.     He  had  never 
read   them,  and    there    were   no   books   within   his 
reach,  at  the  time  when  he  wrote  his  Treatise,  from 
which   he  could    derive    them.     "  My  only  aids   in 
writing   my  Treatise     on   the   Atonement,"  said   he 
personally  to  me,  in  answer  to  a  question  I  put  to 
him,   "  were   the  Bible,   Ethan   Allen's    Oracles  of 
BcasoHj^^  a  deistical  work,  "  and  my  own  reflections.'' 
n-  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  written,  it 
was  certainly  a  most  remarkable  production ;  and  if 
it  did  the  author  no  credit  as  a   sound   thinker,  it 
certainly  entitled  him  to  rank  among  the  most  original 
thinkers  of  our  times.     It  is,  however,  an  admirable 
commentary  on  the  Protestant  rule  of  faith — the  Bible 
without  note  or  comment,  interpreted  by  every  one 
for  himself.     The  book  made  a  deep  impression  on 
my  young  mind,  although  I  was  very  far  from  accept- 
ing all  its  doftiines  or  all  its  arguments.      It  was 
subtle,  yet  even  in  my  youth  I  detected  some  portion 
of  its  sophistry,  and  found  it  repugnant  to  my  moral 
sentiments  and  convictions. 

These  works,  together  with  some  popular  works 
openly  warring  against  all  revealed  religion,  indeed 
against  all  religion,  whether  revealed  or  natural,  I 
had  read  before  becoming  a  Presbyterian.  They 
had  a  pernicious  influence  on  my  mind.     They  un- 


in 


40 


THE   CONVERT. 


settled  it,  loosed  it  from  its  moorings^  and  filled  me 
with  doubt.  I  had  in  my  despair  gone  to  the  Pres- 
byterian Church,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  doubts 
they  had  excited,  and  to  be  taught  the  truth. 
Presbyterianism  not  being  the  true  Church,  being,  in 
fact,  only  a  self-constituted  body,  though  she  silenced 
these  doubts  for  a  brief  time,  could  not  solve  or 
remove  them.  When  I  was  forced  to  admit  that 
Presbyterianism  had  no  authority  in  the  matter,  I 
was  necessarily  forced  back  on  the  point  whence  it 
had  taken  me  up,,  when  I  believed,  so  far  as  I  be- 
lieved anything,  the  doctrine  of  Universalism.  The 
truth  is,  my  mind  was  unsettled,  and  in  reality  had 
been  from  the  time  my  well-meaning  aunt  had  un- 
dertaken to  initiate  me  into  the  doctrine  of  Univer- 
salism, and  I  had  adhered  to  any  fixed  doctrines 
only  by  spasmodic  efforts.  In  reality  my  mind  con- 
tinued unsettled  for  many  years  later  than  the  period 
I  am  now  treating  of.  I  had  no  repose  of  mind,  and 
found  none  till  I  got  back  to  the  Apostles^  Creed, 
and  found  admission  into  the  bosom  of  the  Holy 
Catholic  Church.     But  this  by  the  way. 

I  could  not,  following  my  own  reason,  and  without 
any  divinely-commissioned  teacher,  have  believed  in 
the  doctrine  of  the  eternal  punishment  of  the  wicked. 
It  seemed  to  me  unjust.  I  could  conceive  it  just, 
only  on  condition  that  God  had  given  us  an  infallible 
i.'ipans  of  knowing  the  truth,  and  sufficient  power; 
naturally  or  supernaturally,  of  always  obeying  it,  and 
rcibibting  all  temptation  to  evil.  These  I  could  not 
perceive  had  been  given.     The  Protestant  sophism 


BECCME  A   UNIVERSALIST. 


41 


could  not  deceive  me.  The  Scriptures  might|  in- 
deed, be  infallible  in  themselves,  but  they  were  and 
could  be  to  me  only  what  I  understood  them  to  be. 
They  were  to  me  solely  in  my  understanding  of 
them,  and  my  understanding  of  them  was  not  infalli- 
ble. I  might  err  as  to  their  sense,  and  entirely  mis- 
interpret them.  Besides,  only  about  one-twentieth 
of  mankind  can  read,  and  to  those  who  cannot  read, 
the  Bible  is  a  sealed  book ;  for  them,  it  is  as  if  it 
were  not.  What  is  to  become  of  them  f  How  are 
they  to  know  the  truth  ? — But  all  should  know  how 
to  read.  Be  it  so  ]  yet  they  do  not  all  know  how  to 
read,  and  we  must  deal  with  them  as  they  are. 
They  may  die  before  they  can  learn  to  read  the 
Bible. — But  their  natural  light  will  suffice  for  them. 
Then  the  Scriptures  are  superfluous.  Yet  our  natu- 
ral ligtit,  even  the  best  we  have,  is  dim,  our  natural 
reason  is  weak,  and  to  err  is  human.  We  have 
no  infallible  means  of  knowing  the  truth,  of  knowing 
what  it  is  that  God  requires  of  us,  the  belief  and 
worship  that  will  be  acceptable  to  him. 

Nor  is  this  the  worst.  We  are  not  only  weak  to 
know,  but  we  are  even  weaker  to  perform.  None  of 
us  do  as  well  as  we  know.  The  spirit  is  willing, 
but  the  flesh  is  weak.  I  see  the  right,  I  approve  it, 
and  yet  pursue  the  wrong.  My  will  is  weak,  and 
my  appetites  and  passions  are  strong.  I  am  sur- 
rounded with  temptations  to  which  my  firmest  re- 
solves succumb.  I  feel  the  want  of  a  moral  power 
that  I  find  not.  Now  it  cannot  be  that  a  just  and 
good  God  has  placed  me  in  this  world  in  the  midst  of 


42 


TllK    CONVi:UT. 


SO  many  seductions,  surrounded  by  so  many  enemies 
to  my  virtue,  where  not  to  fail  is  a  miracle — left  me 
ill  BO  much  darkness,  so  frail  and  so  morally  weak  in 
myself,  and  yet  attached  the  penalty  of  eternal  death 
even  to   my  slightest  transgressions.     He  knoweth 
our  frame,  he  considereth   our  weakness,  and   hath 
compassion  on  us.     These  were  reasons  sufficient,  I 
thought,  for  rejecting  endless  punishment.     Indeed, 
the    doctrine    of  endless    punishment,    as    held   by 
Christians,  pertains  to  the  supernatural  order,  and 
would  not  be  just,  if  man  had  been  left  to  the  natural 
order,  and  had  not  received  supernatural  gifts  and 
graces.     It  presupposes  man  to  have   been   placed 
under  a  supernatural  Providence,  and  that  he  has 
done  more  than  abuse  or  misuse  his  natural  powers. 
It  is  inflicted  for  the  abuse  of  supernatural  graces 
which,  if  properly  used,  would  have  enabled  us  to 
merit  the  beatitude  of  heaven.     To  deny  the  super- 
natural aids,  and  yet  assert  the  endless  punishment 
of  the  wicked,  is  to  outrage  the  natural  sense    of 
justice  common  to  all  men. 

As  to  the  positive  part  of  Universalism,  I  felt  less 
certain,  both  because  I  was  not  perfectly  satisfied 
that  the  Scriptures  taught  it,  and  because  I  had  a 
lurking  doubt  of  the  Divine  inspiration  and  authority 
of  the  Scriptures  themselves.  But  having  made  up 
my  mind  that  the  endless  punishment  of  the  wicked 
was  a  thing  not  to  be  dreaded,  I  felt  the  less  scruple 
on  the  subject,  as  no  grave  consequences  would  or 
could  follow  even  an  error  on  the  subject.  Tlie 
question  of  the  authority  of  the  Scriptures,  I  waived 


BKCUME    A    LXIVEIiSALIST. 


43 


3owers. 


as  far  as  possible ;  and  I  honestly  thought  at  the  time 
that  they  might  be  and  ought  to  be  explained  in  the 
sense  of  the  final  salvation^  or  final  happiness  of  all 
men.  Taking  reason  for  my  guide  and  authority ,  I 
supposed  that  the  Scriptures  were  to  be  explained  in 
accordance  with  reason,  so  as  to  teach  a  rational  doc- 
trine ;  and  certainly,  I  said,  Universalism  is  a  far  more 
rational  doctrine  than  its  opposite.  It  may  be  that 
it  is  not  proved  by  the  strict  letter  of  Scripture,  but 
the  letter  killeth,  it  is  the  spirit  that  giveth  life^ 
and  we  must  not  be  held  to  a  strictly  literal  inter- 
pretation. We  must  allow  ourselves  great  latitude 
of  interpretation,  and  look  at  the  general  intent 
and  scope  of  the  whole,  rather  than  at  mere  verbal 
statements.  •  - 

I  was  the  moie  ready  to  adopt  these  loose  notions 
of  Scriptural  interpretation  from  the  fact  that,  in 
falling  back  from  Presby  terianism  on  my  own  reason, 
imperfect  as  I  knew  it  to  be,  I  necessarily  excluded 
from  revelation  the  revelation  of  anything  super- 
natural or  above  reason.  The  revelation  might  be 
supernaturally  made,  and  so  far  I  could  admit  the 
supernatural;  but  it  could  be  the  revelation  of  no 
supernatural  matter,  or  truth  transcending  the  natural 
Older.  A  revelation  of  supernatural  truth,  of  an 
order  of  truth  or  of  things  whose  nature  could  not  be 
subjected  to  the  judgment  of  natural  reason,  would 
demand  a  supernaturally  endowed  and  assisted 
teacher  and  judge,  to  bring  it  within  the  reach  of  my 
na'  iral  understanding.  I  rejected,  therefore,  at  once, 
a*    the   mysteries   of  faith;    treated   them   as  non 


44 


THE  CONVERT. 


aventieSf  and  reduced  Christianity  to  a  system  of 
natural  religion,  or  of  moral  and  intellectual  philo- 
sophy. If  left  to  my  natural  reason,  I  could  not 
accept  what  was  beyond  the  reach  of  natural  reason. 
Natural  reason  thus  became  the  measure  of  I'evealed 
truth ;  and  if  so,  I  had  the  right  to  reject  every 
interpretation  of  Scripture  that  deduced  from  it  a 
doctrine  which  reason  could  not  comprehend  and 
approve.  If  I  retained  any  respect  for  the  Bible, 
I  must  give  to  its  language  a  free  and  rational 
interpretation.  .1 

Moreover,  the  main  thing  could  not  be  to  discover 
and  know  the  exact  truth.  That  could  not  be  what 
God  required  of  us,  for,  if  it  Imd  been,  he  would  have 
furnished  us  with  facile  and  infallible  means  of 
doing  it.  What  I  should  aim  at  was,  not  so  much 
the  truth,  as  the  exercise  of  reason,  its  development 
and  cultivation.  80,  even  if  Universalism  should 
turn  out  to  be  not  true,  I  need  not  disturb  myself, 
if  I  developed  my  faculties,  and  conducted  myself  as 
a  man.  Consequently,  as  Universalism  appeared  to 
me  the  more  reasonable  of  all  doctrines  known  to  me, 
I  need  not  hesitate  to  profess  and  even  to  preach  it. 
I  accordingly  professed  myself  a  Universalist,  and 
in  the  twenty-second  year  of  my  age  became  a 
Universalist  minister. 


:  iii 


\ 


CHAPTER  IV. 


UNIYERSALISM  UNSATISFACTORY. 


After  leaving  Presbyterianism,  I  devoted  some 
months  to  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  and  such 
Universalist  publications  as  were  then  extant,  or  at 
least  such  as  were  within  my  reach.  In  the  autumn 
of  1825,  I  applied  for  and  received  a  letter  of  fellow- 
ship as  a  preacher  from  the  General  Convention  of 
Universalists,  which  met  that  year  in  Hartland,  Vt. 
I  remained  for  a  year  in  Vermont,  continuing  my 
studies,  part  of  the  time  with  the  Reverend  Samuel 
C.  Loveland,  a  man  of  some  learning,  the  compiler 
of  a  Greek  Lexicon  of  the  New  Testament,  of  no 
great  merit,  and  part  of  the  time  by  myself  alone, 
and  preaching  on  Sundays  in  various  towns  in  the 
State,  chiefly  in  Windsor,  Rutland,  and  Rockingham 
counties  In  the  summer  of  1826,  I  was  ordained 
an  evangelist  by  a  Universalist  association,  which 
met  that  year  at  JafFrey,  N.  H.  The  sermon  was 
preached,  I  think,  by  the  Rev.  Charles  Hudson,  the 
ordaining  prayer  was  made  by  the  Rev.  Paul  Dean, 
and  the  charge  was  given  by  the  Rev.  Edward 
Turner. 

Mr.  Hudson  was  pastor  of  a  Universalist  society 
in   Westminster,    Mass..   and   professed    himself  a 


46 


THE   CONVERT. 


Restorationist.  He  has  since  figured  a  good  deal  in 
politics^  been  several  times  a  member  of  the  General 
Court  of  Massachusetts,  a  member  of  the  Governor's 
Council,  and  several  years  in  Congress.  Under  the 
Taylor- Fillmore  administration,  he  was  naval  officer 
of  Boston  and  Charlestown,  and  after  that  connected 
with  the  Boston  Atlas  /  but  what  or  where  he  is  now, 
I  am  not  informed.     He  was  then  a  young  man,  very 

^  industrious,  very  conceited,  very  disputatious,  with 
moderate  learning,  fair  logical  ability,  and  no  fancy 
or  imagination — a  dry,  hard  man,  and  an  exceed- 
ingly dull  and  uninteresting  preacher.  I  enjoyed, 
however,  a  comfortable  nap  under  his  sermon.  He 
could  not  endure  Mr.  Bailouts  doctrine  of  no  punish- 
ment after  death,  and  pretended  to  be  able  to  prove 
the  final  restoration  of  all  men  and  devils  from  the 
Scriptures.  - 

Mr.  Dean  was  a  native  of  Barnard,  Vt.,  adjoin- 
ing Royalton,  and  my  eldest  sister  had  been  brought 
up  in  his  father's  family.  He  was  at  the  time  pastor 
of  the  Bulfinch  Street  Universalist  Society  in  Boston, 
and  regarded  as  the  most  popular  preacher  in  the 

-order,  after  Hosea  Ballou,  and  many  even  preferred 
him.  He  was  a  handsome  man,  with  a  pleasing 
address,  genial  manners,  and  a  most  winning  smile. 
He  was  a  Restorationist,  a  Trinitarian,  perhaps  only 
a  Sabellian,  and  by  no  means  an  admirer  of  Mr. 
Ballou,  with  whom  he  was  on  unfriendly  terms.  He 
ultimately,  however,  left  the  Universalist  denomina- 
tion, united  with  the  Unitarians,  and  was  preaching, 
when  I  last  heard  from  him,  for  a  Unitarian  con- 


UNIVEUSALISM    UNSATISFACTORY. 


t/ 


gregation  somewhere  in  the  GUI  Bay  State.  Mr. 
Turner  was  also  a  Restorationist,  minister  at  the  tiino 
to  the  Universalist  Society  in  Portsmouth,  N.  II., 
though  I  am  not  certain  but  it  was  in  Charlestown, 
Mass.  He  was  a  tall,  majestic  person,  of  grave  and 
venerable  aspect,  a  chaste  and  dignified  speaker,  and 
the  best  sermonizer  I  ever  knew  among  Universalists. 
But  he  had  too  refined  and  cultivated  a  taste  to  be  a 
popular  Universalist  preacher,  and  finally,  I  believe, 
followed  my  example,  and  associated  with  the 
Unitarians.  sv 

At  the  time  of  my  ordiDation,  those  who  believed 
in  a  future  limited  punishment,  and  those  who  denied 
all  punishment  after  death,  were  associated  together 
in  one  body,  under  the 'common  name  of  Universalists. 
Subsequently,  however,  a  division  took  place,  and  a 
portion  of  the  former  separated  from  the  General 
Convention,  as  it  was  called,  and  took  the  name  of 
Restorationists.  This  schism  was  formed  mainly 
through  the  instrumentality  of  Adin  Ballou,  a  dis- 
tant relative  of  Hosea  Ballou.  He  was  a  young 
convert  from  some  evangelical  sect — I  forget  what 
sect — and  was  full  of  zeal  against  the  doctrine  of 
no  future  punishment.  lie  took  with  him  Messrs. 
Dean,  Turner,  and  Hudson,  and  several  other  min- 
isters less  known,  and  formed  of  theui  a  distinct  sect. 
But  the  majority  even  of  those  who  held  to  a  lirm_ .  . 
punishment  after  death,  remained  with  the  i3™^5! 
Convention,  and  the  Restorationist  sect,  a^w5j^  few  ts 
years  of  a  fitful  existence,  became  extindftjtts  menv^ 
bers  for  the  most  part  have  coalesced,  l^Mlieve,  w4ih 


•t- 


^ 


CO 

I 


48 


THK   CONVERT. 


the  Unitarians.  I  never  went  with  tlie  sect,  though  I 
was  never  one  of  those  Univcrsalists  who  restrict  the 
consequences  of  our  acts  done  in  the  body,  whether 
good  or  bad,  to  this  life.  On  that  subject  I  adopted 
a  theory  of  my  own,  which  I  afterwards  found  to 
be  very  generally  adopted  by  American  Unitarians. 
Mr.  Adin  Ballou  did  not  expire  with  his  sect.  He 
became  a  socialist,  and  founded  the  community  of 

.  Hopedale  ^  and  when  I  heard  last  from  him,  he  was 
u  spiritualist,  spiritist,  or  devil-worshipper,  convers- 
ing with  spirits,  and  believing  in  Andrew  Jackson 
Davis  and  the  Fox  girls. 

In  October,  1826,  I  returned  to  the  State  of 
New  York,  in  which  I  had  res'ded  most  of  the  time 
since  I  was  fourteen  years  of  age.     I  stopped  a  short 

.  time  in  Fort  Anne  and  Whitehall.  I  resided  for  the 
greater  part  of  a  year  in  Litchfield,  Herkimer  County, 
then  a  year  in  Ithaca,  a  pleasant  village  at  the  head 
of  Cayuga  Lake,  surrounded  by  varied  and  pictu- 
resque scenery,  well  worthy  the  visit  of  the  tourist 
and  the  lover  of  nature.  I  remained  a  few  months 
at  Genoa,  Cayuga  County,  whence  I  removed  to 
Auburn,  in  the  same  county,  where  I  continued  to 
reside  till  I  ceased  to  be  a  Universalist  minister.  At 
Auburn,  I  preached  to  the  Universalist  Society  in 
that  place,  and  edited  TJie  Gospel  Advocate  and 
Impartial  Investigatory  a  semi-monthly  periodical 
which,  at  the  time  of  its  coming  under  my  control, 
was  the  most  widely  circulated  and  the  most  influ- 
ential periodical,  in  this  country,  devoted  to  the 
interests  of  Universalism,  though  it  had  gained  its 


L'NIVERSALISM    I  NSATISKAC^TORY. 


49 


circulation  and  influence  less  by  its  advocacy  of 
Univcrsalism,  than  by  its  opposition  to  the  move- 
ments of  the  Presbyterian  and  other  Evangelical  sects 
to  stop  the  Sunday  mails,  to  control  the  politics,  and 
to  wield  the  social  influence  of  the  country, — what 
the  same  sects  are  still  attempting  by  means  of  their 
Christian  Young  Men^s  Associations,  and  kindred 
societies.  The  periodical  had  been  started  at  Buf- 
falo by  the  Rev.  Thomas  Gross,  who  had  been  a 
Congregational  minister  in  one  of  the  Eastern  States, 
but,  being  obliged  to  leave  his  parish,  had  turned 
Universalist,  and  by  the  Rev.  Linus  S.  Everett, 
originally,  I  believe,  a  house  and  sign  painter,  a 
man  of  little  learning,  but  a  good  deal  of  mother- wit. 
He  had  not  a  pleasant  expression,  but  otherwise  he 
was  a  fine-looking  man,  had  a  popular  address,  and 
engaging  manners.  He  had  little  religious  belief, 
and  not  much  moral  principle,  but  he  was  a  phil- 
anthropist, and  talked  well. 

The  periodical  had  been  removed  by  Mr.  Everett 
to  Auburn,  and  the  proprietorship  had  been  disposed 
of  to  Ulysses  F.  Doubleday,  printer  and  bookseller, 
proprietor  and  editor  of  the  Cayuga  Patriot,  and  sub- 
sequently a  member  of  Congress,  a  man  of  a  strong 
mind,  and  an  able  writer.  He  was  a  Universalist 
when  I  knew  him,  but  he  afterwards  became,  I 
heard,  a  Calvinistic  Baptist.  I  had  written  a  good 
deal  for  the  periodical  while  at  Ithaca,  had  had 
charge  of  it  during  the  absence  of  its  editor,  and  had 
acquired  through  its  pages  considerable  reputation 
as   a  writer,  and,  when  Mr.  Everett  removed,  its 

3 


50 


THE  CONVERT. 


editorship  was  transferred  to  me.  I  conducted  it  for 
a  year,  but  with  more  credit  to  my  free,  bold,  and 
crude  thinking,  than  to  my  piety  or  orthodoxy  even  as 
a  Universalist.  In  it  is  a  confused  medley  of  thoughts, 
and  the  germs  of  nearly  all  I  subsequently  held  or 
published  till  my  conversion  to  the  Catholic  Chufch. 
In  the  commencement  of  my  career  as  a  Unirer- 
salist,  I  did  my  best  to  smother  my  doubts  as  to 
revelation,  and  to  defend  Universalism  as  a  Scriptural 
doctrine.  But  I  succeeded  only  indifferently.  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  that  endless  vindictive  punish- 
ment was  contrary  to  reason,  and  incompatible  with 
the  love  and  goodness  of  Qod ;  but  when  I  became 
forced  to  study  the  Scriptures  more  attentively,  in 
order  to  defend  Universalism  against  the  objections  I 
had  to  meet,  I  became  satisfied  that  they  did  not 
teach  the  final  salration  of  all  men,  if  literally  inter- 
preted, and  that  I  must  either  reject  them  as  authority 
for  reason,  or  else  accept  the  doctrine  of  endless 
punishment.  The  answers  we  gave  to  the  texts  cited 
against  us  could  not  stand  the  test  of  honest  criti- 
cism, and  those  we  adduced  in  our  favor  were  more 
specious  than  conclusive.  Either,  then,  since  the 
doctrine  of  endless  punishment  is  contrary  to  reason, 
I  must  give  up  reason,  and  then  have  no  reason  for 
accepting  the  Scriptures  at  all,  and  no  means  of  de- 
termining their  sense;  or  I  must  make  reason  the 
judge  not  only  of  the  meaning  of  Scripture,  but  of 
the  truth  or  falsity  of  that  meaning.  I  chose,  as 
was  reasonable  in  my  position,  the  la,tter  alternative, 
and  rejected  the  authority  of  the  Scriptures.       ^ 


UNIVERSALI8M  UNSATISFACTORY. 


51 


or  were  more 
len,  since  the 
•ary  to  reason, 
no  reason  for 
means  of  de- 
ke  reason  the 
ipture,  bnt  of 
I  chose,  as 
ir  alternative, 
tares. 


For  a  time,  indeed,  I  tried  to  persuade  myself 
that  I  could  reject  the  Scriptures  as  authoritative^ 
and  yet  concede  their  authenticity  and  divine  inspira- 
tion. But  it  would  not  do.  If  the  Bible  is  Qod's 
word,  it  is  authoritative,  not  only  because  God  has 
the  right  to  command  us  as  our  sovereign  Lord  and 
proprietor,  but  because,  since  he  can  neither  deceive 
nor  be  deceived,  his  word  is  the  highest  conceivable 
evidence  of  truth.  God  is  the  Supreme  Reason ;  and 
if  we  have  fnll  evidence  that  what  we  take  to  be  his 
word  really  is  his  word,  it  is  final,  and  an  infallible 
test  of  what  is  or  is  not  reasonable.  In  cases  of 
apparent  conflict  between  it  and  the  teachings  of 
reason,  I  must  conclude,  not  that  it  is  wrong,  but  that 
I  have  misinterpreted  reason,  and  assumed  that  reason 
teaches  what  in  reality  it  does  not.  If  I  understood 
reason  better,  I  should  perceive  no  discrepancy,  be- 
cause God  can  never  teach  us  one  thing  in  hie  word, 
and  a  contradictory  thing  through  our  natural  rea- 
son. What  he  tells  us  in  his  word  may  be  above 
reason,  but  cannot  be  against  it. 

I  saw  this  cleaHy  enough.  But  my  Protestant 
ism  was  in  my  way.  BefDre  I  can  thus  surrender  my 
reason  to  the  Bible,  and  conclude  the  reaso*riableness 
of  what  it  teaches,  or  its  accordance  with  reason 
where  I  do  not  see  that  accordance  or  that  reasonable- 
ness, I  must  have  infallible  authority  for  asserting 
that  the  Bible  is  the  word  of  God,  and  for  deter- 
mining its  true  sense  ;  for  the  Bible  can  bind  me 
only  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  word  of  God,  and  it  is 
the  word  of  God  only  in  its  true  sense, — the  sense 


I 


52 


THE  CONVERT. 


\     1 


intended  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  But  I  have  not  in 
either  case  this  infallible  authority.  The  Catholic 
Church,  indeed,  pretends  to  have  received  it, 
but  that  Church  is  out  of  the  question.  I  have  only 
my  reason  with  which  to  determine  that  the  Bible  is 
God's  word,  or  with  which  to  determine  its  true 
meaning.  Here  is  my  difficulty.  Reason  is  no  more 
in  settling  these  two  points,  than  it  is  in  settling  the 
point  as  to  what  is  or  is  not  unreasonable ;  and  as 
without  reason  I  can  neither  determine  that  the  Bible 
is  inspired  or  what  is  its  sense,  I  cannot  surrender 
my  reason  to  it  in  cases  where  it  appears  to  me 
unreasonable.  I  may  believe  on  competent  authority 
that  a  doctrine  is  reasonable,  although  I  do  not  per- 
ceive its  reasonableness;  but  I  cannot,  if  I  try,  believe 
what  appears  to  me  unreasonable,  on  the  authority 
of  reason  alone.  To  say  you  believe  a  thing  imrea- 
sonablc,  is  to  say  that  you  do  not  believe  it,  and  that 
you  reject  it.  Belief  always  is  and  must  be  a  rea- 
sonable act ;  in  it  reason  assents,  mediately  or  imme- 
diately, to  the  proposition  that  it  is  true.  Where 
that  assent  is  wanting,  belief  cannot  be  predicated. 
It  is  a  contradiction  in  terms  to  say  that  you  believe 
what  you  hold  to  be  unreasonable.  I  cannot,  on  the 
authority  of  Scripture,  established  only  by  reason, 
believe  what  appears  to  me  unreasonable.  Whoever 
knows  anything  of  the  operations  of  the  mind  knows 
that  it  is  so.  The  Bible,  then,  without  an  infallible 
authority  to  assert  it  and  deduce  its  sense,  can  never 
be  authority  sufficient  for  believing  a  doctrine  to  be 
reasonable,  when  tliat  reasonableness  is  not  apparent 


UNIVEKSALISM    UNSATISFACTORY. 


53 


annot,  on  the 


to  the  understanding.  By  rejecting  the  authority  of 
the  Church  as  the  witness  of  revelation  and  judge 
of  its  meaning,  I  found  myself  obliged,  therefore,  to 
reject,  in  turn,  the  authority  of  the  Scriptures. 

But  reason,  I  soon  discovered,  in  order  to  be  able 
to  judge  by  its  own  light  of  the  truth  or  falsity  of  a 
revealed  doctrine,  must  know,  independently  of  the 
revelation,  all  that  it  can  teach  us.  Revelation,  then, 
is  superfluous.  I  can  know  without  it  all  I  can  know 
with  it.  God,  then,  cannot  have  made  a  revelation 
to  us,  for  he  does  nothing  in  vain,  or  without  a  purpose. 
But,  as  the  Scriptures  evidently  teach  the  unrea- 
sonable doctrine  of  endless  punishment,  they  are,  if 
believed  to  be  given  by  divine  inspiration,  worse  than 
useless ;  the/  are  calculated  to  mislead,  to  perpetuate 
superstitious  fear,  and  to  prevent  the  world  from  rising 
to  just  conceptions  of  the  love  and  goodness  of  God, 
and  a  just  reliance  on  his  providence.  In  the  inter- 
ests of  truth  and  human  happiness,  then,  I  ought  not 
only  to  reject  the  Scriptures,  but  to  do  all  in  my  power 
to  destroy  belief  in  them  as  the  word  of  God. 

I  had  other  difficulties  with  Universalism.  The 
ground  on  which  I  rejected  endless  punishment  was, 
that  iiU  punishment  should  be  reformatory  in  its  nature 
(ind  intention.  All  Universalists  held  that  vengeance, 
or  vindictive  punishment,  designed  to  honor  a  broken 
law,  and  vindicate  an  offended  majesty,  is  incom- 
patible with  the  nature  of  a  God  who  is  love.  Love 
w.nketh  no  ill  to  his  neighbor.  The  nature  of  love 
is  to  make  the  object  beloved  happy  as  far  as  in  its 
powur.      God  is  love,  his  wisdom   and   power  ai*e 


54 


THK  OOKVBBT. 


uniiiiiited.  He  Iqvm  att  his  Greatures ;  ke  can  maka 
tkcm  all  hapfikj^  and  thfirelbre  will.  He  can  puniah 
BO  (MM  in  Ilia  wraAk  ^  he  oaa  oal;  Qhastise  «■  for  omr 
profit^ ''  that  ve  aiaj  be  made  partakera  of  hia 
h^yiieM."    The%  na  visdictiTe  puiuBhiiLeiit* 

We  all  heid  tfaia  doetriae.  But  thia  doetrine 
denieft  that  wb  ia  ever  pumahed*  If  pain  ia  inflicted 
upott  a  siBiier^  it  is  not  to  pitnish  hia  sin,  but  to 
refonn  hisk  The  quantity  of  pain  must  not  then  be 
measured  bj  the  quantity  of  sin  comniitted.  The 
ioflidioa  can  have  no  reference  to  wrong  d<me  or 
guUt  incurved,  and  ks  amount  must  be  determined 
by  the  aisiiount  necessary  to  reform  the  wrong-doer. 
It  then  is  not  punishment  at  all.  Its  motive  is  not 
to  pttni^y  but  to  benefit  him  wha  suffers  it,  and  may 
as  weii  be  inflicted  on  the  innocent  as  on  the  guilty, 
if  it  will  do  him  good,  or  will  redound  to  his  advan- 
tage. From  pain  inflicted  for  one's  benefit,  it  can 
be  no  advantage  to  save  him.  How,  then,  can  I  talk 
of  a  Saviom;  t  Universalists  say,  Jesua  Christ  is  the 
Saviour  of  all  men.  But  from  what  does  he  save 
them  f  From  punishment,  from  a  penalty  annexed  to 
the  Divine  law  t  No,  for  God  never  annexed  any 
penalty  to  the  breadi  of  his  law,  for  he  never  pun- 
itihes  to  vindicate  his  law.  AU  the  penalty,  all  the 
consequence  of  aki,  is  simply  to  be  whipped  till  we 
sill  no  more,  and  from  that  whipping  Christ  saves  no 
one^     How,  then,  can  I  call  him  a  Saviour  t 

He  is  a  Saviour,  we  answered,  in  that  he  saves  us 
from  sinning.  '^  Thou  shalt  call  his  name  Jesus,  for 
ke  shall  aave  hia  people  from  their  sins."    Yet  he 


r  i 


UNIVEBSALUM  CNSATiaVACTOBT. 


55 


does  not  sftve  tt»  frooi  iiiimng]>  for  we  go  on  BiniuBg 
every  d^y.  But  how  doet  or  can  he  saTe  ns  from 
Binntng  t  Not  by  infnaing  believing  and  lanctifying, 
grace  into  oor  hearti,  for  the  doctrine  of  infused 
grace  ia  rejected  by  ail  Proteitantfly  wh%  when  they 
recognise  grace  at  all  aa  operating  within  us,  recog- 
nize it  only  as  a  transient  act  of  God,  not  as  an 
infused  habit  of  the  souL  He  can  save  us  only  by 
his  doctrine  and  examplfl*.  His  example  is  for  us 
only  the  example  of  a,  good  man,  better  than  that  of 
any  other,  hecauM  more  perfect^  yet  differing  from 
that  of  others  only  in  degree.  His  doctrine^ — who 
can  say  what  it  ist  Con  I  say  honestly  that  I  know 
what  he  taught  t  Did  he  teach  the  endless  punish- 
ment of  the  wiched  t  If  so,  he  does  not  save  us  by 
his  doctrine  from  sinning)  for  Universalists  are  agreed 
that  the  doctrine  of  endless  punishment  has  an  immoral 
tendency,  inasmuch  as  it  denies  the  love  and  goodness 
of  God,  and  represents  him  as  partial,  vindictive,  and 
unjust  Did  he  teach  UniversaUsm,  that  all  men 
are  sure  of  heaven,  and  cannot  possiUy  miss  itf 
Did  he  teach  that  vice  has  no  punishment,  virtue  no 
reward ;  that  Judas,  Pilate,  and  Herod  will  receive  a 
crown  of  life  as  well  as  Peter,  James,  and  John,  and 
a  crown  equally  bright,  unfading,  eternal  in  the 
heavens  f  How  does  that  doctrine  save  us  from  sin- 
ning, or  tend  to  make  ua  virtuous  t  What  motive 
to  virtue  does  it  present ;  what  consideration  to  deter 
from  vice  t  Do  my  best,  I  cannot  make  my  eternal 
felicity  surer  *,  do  my  worsts  I  cannot  render  it  less 
sure.    Whjf  ^iumf  ahftU  J  tronblfi  myself  about  the 


56 


THE  CONVERT. 


matter  f  Let  me  eat/ drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to- 
morrow I  die,  and  go— to  heaven.  Here,  then,  I 
have  lost  the  authority  of  the  Church,  the  authority 
and  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures,  even  my  Saviour 
himself,  and  with  him  the  last  vestige  of  revealed 
religion.  Surely,  I  have  a  marvellous  faculty  in 
losing.     Wonder  what  I  have  gained ! 

But,  as  the  world  looks  upon  Jesus  as  a  Saviour, 
and  gathers  round  him  a  midtitude  of  superstitious 
notions  which  make  men  mental  and  moral  slaves, 
and  prevent  them  from  asserting  their  freedom,  their 
manhood,  standing  up  and  acting  like  men,  he,  so  far 
from  saving  them  from  sinning,  actually  prevents 
them  from  being  saved,  and  becomes  the  occasion  of 
their  moral  degradation  and  misery.  I  ought,  then, 
to  war  against  him,  and  to  do  my  best  to  deliver  the 
world  from  its  bondage  to  him.  Thus  I  may  myself 
become  a  saviour,  and  be  entitled  to  the  respect  lie 
usurps.  Hence,  my  Universalism  n^ode  me,  so  far  as 
logic  could  go,  not  only  a  non-Christian,  but  an  anti- 
Christian.  This  was  my  reasoning  at  the  time,  not 
merely  my  reasoning  now. 

But  my  troubles  did  not  end  here.  In  order  to 
meet  the  objection  that  Universalism  was  of  a  licen- 
tious tendency,  and  opened  the  floodgates  of  iniquity, 
we  laid  particular  stress  on  the  certainty  of  punish- 
ment, and  the  impossibility  of  escaping  it.  We 
maintained  that  every  one  would  receive  according 
to  the  deeds  done  in  the  body,  and  even  here  in  this 
world  that  God  will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty ; 
that,  as  a  man  sows,  so  shall  he  reap,  and  that  he  must 


UKIVLK8ALI8M   UMSATISFACTORT. 


57 


pay  the  debt  he  contracts,  pay  it  in  hia  own  person, 
and  "to  the  uttermost  farthing."     We  were,  after 
having  said  this,  accustomed  to  turn  upon  our  assail- 
ants, and  to  tell  them  that  their  doctrine  of  a  punish- 
ment put  off  till  after  the  day  of  judgment,  and  their 
doctrine  of  repentance  and  remission  of  sin,  by  which 
the  vilest  sinner,  a  hard-faced,  grinding  Presbyterian 
or  Congregationalist  deacon,  by  a  simple  act  of  faith, 
could  escape  his  just  deserts,  and  take  his  rank  in 
heaven  as  a  saint  of  the  first  water,  might,  with  far 
more  justice,  be  charged  with  an  immoral  and  licen- 
tious tendency.     But  this  doctrine,  if  it  meant  any- 
thing, denied  all  pardon,  all  forgiveness,  all  inercy, 
all  compassion  on  the  part  of  Gx>d,  all  interposition 
en  his  part  in  favor  of  the  transgressor.    God  leaves 
the  sinner  to  the  mercy  of  the  order  he  has  estab- 
lished.    He  has  made  the  world,  adjusted  its  parts, 
impressed  on  it  its  laws,  given  it  a  jog,  and  bid  it  go 
ahead  and  take  care  of  itself.    Then  I  lose  my  Father 
in  heaven,  for  God  is  only  my  creator,  and  is  no 
more  my  father  than  he  is  the  father  of  the  reed  or 
the  oak.     I  lose  Providence,  and  am  reduced  to  an 
inflexible  and  inexorable  nature.   Prayer,  repentance, 
devotion,  entreaty,  can   avail  me  nothing.      Gud 
has  intrenched  himself  behind  the  natural  laws,  and 
cannot  hear  me,  will  not  interpose  to  help  me.     With 
this  went  even  natural  religion. 

But,  as  God  inflicts  pain  only  for  the  sake  of  refor- 
mation, as  he  never  punishes  sin  or  rewards  virtue, 
all  idea  of  moral  accountability  must  be  abandoned. 
God   will   never    bring   us    into  judgment   for  om* 


68 


THE  CONVERT. 


conchtet.  Tken  there  is  no  power  above  xm  to 
defead  ofkpresaed  hmeeeBee,  and  to  vindieate  tfao- 
naJMty  of  r^pkt*  Then,  what  b  the  cnterioa  of 
right  and  wrong-f  Both  nrnet  he  alike  pleasing  to> 
Qtoi ;  and  if  both  are  alike  pleasing  to  him,  if  he  re-< 
garda  with  eqnal  oomplacencj  the  sinner  and  the 
taint,  what  is  the  radical  dUTereiiee  between  them  t 
None  that  I  can  see.  God  wilb  our  happiness :  then 
what  makes  us  happj  must  be  regarded  as  good,  and 
what  makes  us  miserable  must  be  regarded  as  eviL 
An  action  is  virtuous,,  then,  because  it  promotes  our 
happiness,  produces  pleasurable  emotions  in  our^ 
selves  or  in  others  }  and  vice  is  that  which  does  not 
promote  our  happiness,  which  causes  painful  emotions 
in  us  or  in  others.  Virttie  is  virtue,  because  it  pro- 
.motes  happiness;  and  vice  is  vice,  because  it.  brings 
misery.  Then  no  objective  di^iiietion  between 
virtue  and  vice,  between  good  and  evil.  Here,  said 
I,  is  the  verj  immdation  of  moraHtjr  undermmed. 

God  governs  the  worid^  I  said,,  only  by  general 
laws  which  h*  has  impressed  on  it  in  creating  it,  and 
with  the  natural  operation  of  these  be  never  inter- 
feres»  These  laws  admit  the  eidstence  of  eviL  The 
world  is  fnfi  of  suffering  f  jnan  preys  n^on  man,  and 
the  whole  creation  groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain. 
What  is  to  hittiler  it  ^rom  bemg  always  so  t  What 
is  to  put  an  end  to  evil,  to  pain  and  suffering  I  What 
is  to  insure  the  triumph  of  goodt  No  new  Ww  can 
be  introduced^  no  new  power  can  be  devdoped. 
What,  then,  is  to  assure  us  that  evil  will  ever  be  less  t 
The  goodness  of  God,  you  tell  me*     But  how  am  I  to 


UNIVEBSALISM  UXSATISVACTORT. 


5^ 


be  auiired  thai  God  i«  goodt  I  oftn  prove  his  good- 
ness only  trom  nature,  and  in  nature  the  evil  seems 
to  surpass  the  good«  Hefe  Universaliamy  said  I,  runs 
itself  out,  and  renders  doubtful  even  its  own  premises. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  I  accepted  all  these 
frightful  conclusions.  They  followed  logically  from 
my  premises,  and  logically  I  was  obliged  to  accept 
them ;  yet  my  good  sense  and  my  better  feelings 
rebelled  against  them.  My  mind  could  neither  re- 
ject nor  accept  them.  It  waa  in  doubt ;  it  was 
unsettled,  uncertain,  in  a  snarl,  and  I  could  see  no 
wiser  course  to  pursue  than  to  dismiss  the  whole 
subject  from  my  thoughts.  I  know  nothing,  I  said, 
and  can  know  nothing  on  the  subject,  and  let  me 
not  attempt  to  decide  anything  respecting  it  one  way 
or  the  other.  I  may  trust  my  senses^  and  believe 
in  the  world  of  sensible  phenomena.  I  will  hencer 
forth  confine  myself  to  that,,  and  leave,  alone  all 
metaphysical  or  theological  speculations,  and  neither 
assert  nor  deny  the  invisible  and  the  spiritual  Thua 
I  had,  following  reason,  lost  the  Bible,  lost  my  Sav- 
iour, lost  Providence,  lost  reason  itself,  and  had  left 
me  only  my  five  senses,  and  what  could  fall  under 
their  observation :  that  is,  reduced  myself  to  a  mere 
animaL 

But,  with  these  doubts  hanging  over  me,  it  was 
clear  that  I  could  not,  as  an  honest  man,  present 
myself  before  the  public  as  a  Christian  minister.  It 
is  true,  I  did  not  write  or  preach  differently  from 
what  I  thought  and  felt:  nobody  could  really  be 
deceived  as  to  thft  state  of  my  mind.    Many  of  my 


i 


60 


THE  CONYEBT. 


brother  ministerB  knew  my  doubts.  They  l>lamed 
me,  it  is  true,  not  for  entertaining  them,  but  for  not 
keeping  them  to  myself.  Some  of  them,  I  knew 
from  their  confidential  communications^  believed  no 
more  than  I  did ;  and  my  conviction  at  the  time  was, 
that  Universalists  generally  had  no  belief  in  revela- 
tioU)  and  were  really  deists  or  skeptics,  and  professed 
to  be  Christians  only  because  they  could  combat  all 
religion  more  successfully  under  a  nominally  Chris- 
tian banner,  than  under  the  banner  of  open,  avowed 
infidelity.  In  this  I  am  inclined  to  believe  I  did 
them  injustice.  I  gave  them  credit  for  being  deeper 
thinkers  and  better  logicians  than  they  were.  Few 
men  ever  reason  out  their  own  systems,  or  compare 
all  the  parts  of  the  system  they  embrace  with  one 
another.  I  did  not  always  do  this  myself.  Univer- 
salists did  not  generally  think  beyond  the  few  points 
brought  into  discussion  between  them  and  the  so- 
called  Orthodox,  and  never  troubled  themselves  to 
inquire  whether  the  ground  on  which  they  defended 
their  Universalism  could  be  assumed  without  involv- 
ing a  denial  of  Christianity,  or  not. 

But,  although  I  was  beginning  to  acquire  a 
prominent  position  in  the  denomination,  I  felt  that 
I  ought  to  leave  it.  I  could  not  consent  to  profess 
what  I  did  not  honestly  believe;  and  my  irritation 
at  myself  for  my  want  of  manliness  and  strict  hon- 
esty in  continuing  to  preach  after  I  had  ceased  to 
believe,  increased  my  doubts,  and  made  me  think  I 
doubted  even  more  than  I  really  did.  The  moment 
I  broke  off  my  connection  with  the  Universalists, 


UMVCnSAIJSX   UNSATISFACTORY. 


61 


and  took  my  position  openly  and  aboye-board,  not  as 
a  disbeliever,  but  as  an  unbeliever,  I  felt  restored 
to  my  manhood— I  felt  like  a  new  man.  My  irri- 
tation ceased,  and  almost  instantly  the  tone  of  my 
feelings  changed  towards  Christianity.  I  was  no 
longer  obliged  to  profess,  or  to  seem  to  profess,  more 
than  I  believed ;  and  from  that  moment  my  mind 
began  to  recover  its  balance,  and  the  most  anti- 
Christian  period  of  my  life  was  the  last  two  years 
that  I  was  a  Univcrsalist  preacher. 


CHAPTER  V. 


BECOHB  ▲  WOBLD-RSrORMER. 

It  was  never  in  my  nature,  any  more  than  it  is  in 
that  of  the  human  race,  to  take  up  with  a  purely 
negative  system.  My  craving  to  helievo  was  always 
strong,  and  it  never  was  my  misfortune  to  be  of  a 
skeptical  turn  of  mind.  But,  if  I  craved  something 
to  believe,  it  was  never  for  the  sake  of  believing.  I 
wanted  the  truth,  would  labor  for  it,  harder  than 
most  men  perhaps,  but  never  to  stop  with  its  mere 
apprehension  or  barren  contemplation.  My  disposi- 
tion was  practical,  rather  than  speculative,  or  even 
meditative,  like  that  of  the  majority  of  my  country- 
men. I  sought  the  truth  in  order  to  know  what  I 
ought  to  do,  and  as  the  means  of  realizing  some 
moral  or  practical  end.  I  wanted  it  that  I  might 
use  it. 

While  my  Universalism  was  escaping  me,  I  had 
been  engaged  in  acquiring  a  positive  belief  of  an- 
other sort.  My  early  religious  belief,  vague  as  it 
was,  gave  me  an  end  to  labor  for, — that  of  getting  f 
religion,  and  preparing  myself,  with  God's  grace,  for 
eternal  happiness  in  heaven.  Even  the  Assembly's 
Catechism  had  taught  me  that  "  the  chief  end  of 
man  is  to  glorify  God,  and  enjoy  him  forever."     I 


BECOUE  A  WOBLD-HCrOKMER. 


had  in  my  childhood  no  difficulty  m  to  the  ond ;  my 
difficulty  WM  only  aa  to  the  meam  of  gainiog  it. 
Univenalitm  deprived  ne  of  that  end,  at  an  end  to 
live  and  labor  for,  by  teaching  me  that  it  waa  juet  • 
as  certain  without  as  with  my  personal  exertiona.  It 
left  my  life  here  very  nearly  pnrposelest.  The  most 
I  had  to  do  was  to  combat  Orthodoxy,  and  spread 
Universalism,— «^  Tery  meagre  work  ;  for  it  effected 
nothing  one  way  or  another  in  relation  to  the  final 
result.  Why  riiodd  I  do  it  t  And  when  I  have 
done  it,  and  got  all  the  worid  to  believe  Universalism, 
what  will  remain  for  me  or  others  to  do  t  But  some 
work  I  must  have,  something  to  do,  to  prevent  my 
activity  from  recoiling  upon  itself;  and  as  Universal* 
ism  had  made  me  doubt  the  utility  of  all  labors  for 
another  world,  I  was  forced  to  look  for  a  work  to  be 
done  for  this  worid.  I  had  made  nothing  of  my 
religious  speculations,  nothing^  of  my  inquiries  as  to 
the  invisible  and  the  heavenly,  and  reason  counselled 
mC)  obliged  me  to  leave  them^  to  drop  from  the 
clouds,  take  my  stand  on  the  wAid  earth,  and  devote 
myself  to  the  material  order,  to  the  virtue  and  hap- 
piness of  mankind  in  tins  earthly  lifo.  Certainly 
this  did  not  perfectly  satisfy  me  in  the  beginning ; 
but  it  seemed  the;  only  alternative  that  waa  left  me^ 
I  had  no  choice  in  the  matter.  With  the  fear  of  hdl^ 
the  hope  of  heaven  had  escaped ;  and^  Mki^e^oflybB 
world  disappeared  from  my  view,  xm^^mo^  but  this 
world  did  or  could  remiun.  /Vv-  .  n^''^^ 

About  the  time  of  my  becom^  a  UniYerSmst       ^ 
minister,  Bdberi  Owe%  from.  fl§w  Lj^^^V  Scot-    c^ 


^ 


\^ 


<c) 


^: 


64 


THK  CONViCUT. 


1  ■  ! 


land,  came  to  this  country  for  the  purpose  of  estab- 
lishing a  Community,  and  to  commence  the  realization 
of  his  plans  of*  World-Reform.  Mr.  Owen  was  a 
Welshman  by  birth,  and  bred  a  cotton-spinner.  He 
was  engaged,  while  still  a  young  man,  to  take  charge 
')f  the  extensive  cotton  mills  at  New  Lanark,  in  Scot- 
land, owned  by  a  Mr.  Dale,  whose  daughter  he  subse- 
quently married.  Through  this  marriage  he  became 
part,  and  at  length,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  sole  pro- 
prietor of  the  milb,  which  made  him  a  rich  man. 
While  acting  as  manager,  more  especially  as  part  or 
sole  proprietor,  he  introduced  several  wise  and 
judicious  arrangements,  which  added  much  to  the 
cleanliness,  decorum,  thrift,  and  physical  comfort  of 
tho  workmen.  From  the  success  of  his  experiments 
at  New  Lanark,  and  from  the  manifest  improvement 
he  had  been  able  to  introduce  in  the  condition  of  the 
population  employed  in  the  miUs,  or  under  his  care 
and  supervision,  he  concluded  that  he  had  discovered 
the  secret  of  so  organizing  mankind  as  to  cure  all 
individual  and  social  evils,  and  to  make  all  men  rich, 
virtuous,  and  happy. 

Mr.  Owen  was  a  man  of  much  simplicity  and 
benevolence  of  character.  He  knew  little  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  believed  less,  but  he  was  philanthropic, 
and  was  ready  to  make  very  heavy  sacrifices  for  the 
happiness  of  mankind,  or,  rather,  for  realizing  his 
plans  for  making  them  happy.  He  drew  up  an  out- 
line of  his  plan,  and  presented  it  to  the  principal 
crowned  heads,  ministers,  statesmen,  and  literary 
and  scientific  men  of  Europe ;  but  not  meetiiig  with 


U- 


BECOME  A  W0^LD-RKir0RlI2R. 


65 


the  degree  of  encouragement  he  looked  for,  and 
doubting  whether  the  Old  World  was  the  place  for 
trying  his  experiment,  he  resolved  on  coming  to  the 
United  States, — the  best  place  in  the  world  for 
visionaries  to  recover  their  wits,  and  to  find  their 
fanciful  schemes  explode.  He  came  when  John 
Quincy  Adams  was  President,  though  I  do  not  now 
recall  the  precise  date,  and  laid  his  plans  before  Mr. 
Adams,  the  Congress,  and  the  people  of  the  United 
States.  His  respectability  as  a  man,  his  sincerity, 
his  apparent  benevolence,  and  his  practical  sagacity 
in  particulars,  gained  him  respectful  treatment  and 
a  candid  hearing.  Many  listened  with  favor,  and  a 
few  with  enthusiasm.  He  soon  succeeded  in  gaining 
a  number  of  followers ;  and,  elated,  he  purchased  a 
settlement  called  Harmony,  in  Posej  County,  In- 
diana, named  it  New  Harmony,  and  established 
there,  with  a  band  of  enthusiasts  and  adventurers, 
some  from  Europe,  some  from  the  United  States,  a 
provisional  community,  preparatory  to  the  complete 
introduction  of  his  plan  of  community  life,  and 
u.iiversal  World-Reform. 

Mr.  Owen's  great  principle  or  maxim  was,  that 
man  is  passive,  not  active  in  the  formation  of  his 
character  j  that  his  character  is  formed  not  by  him, 
but  for  him,  by  education,  or  the  circumstances  in 
which  be  is  bom,  grows  up,  and  lives.  Since  man 
is  passive  in  the  formation  of  his  character,  in  the 
hands  of  circumstances  like  clay  in  the  hands  of  the 
potter,  it  is  practicable,  by  a  skilful  arrangement  of 
circumstances,  or  by  a  proper  arrangement  of  the 


66 


THE  CONYBRT. 


external  influences  brought  to  hear  on  Kim,,  to  mould 
his  character  into  that  of  the  most  consummate  wis- 
dom and  the  most  heroic  virtue.     Hitherto  all  had 
gone   wrong;  circumstances  had  been  arranged  to 
corrupt  and  debase  man's  character.     Man  has  thus 
far  been  cursed  with  a  trinity  of  evils:   property,, 
marriage,  and  religion.    Abolish  the«e,  bring  men  and 
women  to  live  together  in  communities  of -from  o  le  to 
two  thousand  in  each,  inure  them  to  live  in  parallel- 
ograms, with  all  things  in  common,  in  perfect  equality, 
with  the  circumstances  bearing  equally   upon  all 
and  each,  and  you  will  form  theit  characters  to  virtue,, 
and  provide  for  the  proper  education  of  their  offspring. 
There  will  then  be   no  poverty,  no  inequality,  no 
want,  no  envy,;  no  discfiintent,  no  disease,  no  vice,)  no 
crime,  but  all  will  be  peace,  love,  mutual  good-will,^ 
kindness,  virtue^  harmony,  bliss.     The  dream  was 
not  without  its  charm.     But  the  poor  man  was  not 
destined  to  realize  it.     His  Harmony  after  a  few 
months  proved  to  be  no  hajrmony  at  all|  but  harsh 
discord,  rather.    He  had  taken  the  precaution  to  keep 
the  property  he  invested  in  hia  establisbment  in  his 
own  name.     Hia  disciples  murmured  at  this,  as  an 
inconsistency  on  his  part,  though  they  were  living  at 
his  expense,  and  thought  he  ought  to  carry  out  his 
principles  and  abolish  private  property  at  once,  and 
bestow  all  he  called  his  own  on  the  community,  to  be 
held  in  common  by  its  members.     They  succeeded, 
I  believe,  in  cozening  him  out  of  a  considerable  sum, 
of  involving  him  in  pecuniary  embarrassment,,  and 
forcing  him  to  soU  his  New  Lanark  property.     They 


BECOME  A  WOBLDHloaPORMEB. 


67 


^ 


then  separated,  a&d  several  of  them  went  througU 
the  country  abusing  him  for  his  want  of  conMstencj, 
and  his  unwillingiiesa  to  make  greater  saorifioea  for 
their  benefit. 

The  plan  was  silly  enough,  and  ita  soeeess  would 
have  made  men  only  well-trained  and  well-fed  ani- 
mals, and  I  will  say  this  for  myself  that  I  never  folly 
adopted  it  I  had  some  trouble  in  believing  that 
man  was  perfectly  passive  in  the  formation  of  hie 
character ;  and  if  he  was,  I  could  not  see  how  the 
circumstances  were  to  be  controlled  by  him,  and  be 
brought  to  bear  equally  upon  all  and  upon  each.  If 
he  was  to  have  no  want^  I  was  puzzled  to  understand 
what  was  to  stimulate  him  to  exertion;  and  if  he 
made  no  exertion,  I  could  not  understand  how  he 
was  to  become  intellectually  great,  or  to  produce  the 
wherewith  t  provide  for  his  animal  wants.  But  Mr. 
Owen's  discourses,  publications,  and  movements  drew 
my  attention  to  the  social  evils  which  exist  in  every 
land,  to  the  inequalities:  which  obtain  even  in  our 
own  country,  where  political  equality  is  aecured  by 
law,  and  to  the  question  of  reorganizing  society  and 
creating  a  paradise  on  earth.  My  sympathies  were 
enlisted,  I  became  what  is  now  called  a  socialist^ 
and  found  for  many  years  a  vent  for  my  activity  in 
devising,  supporting,  refuting,  and  rejecting  theories 
and  plans  of  World-Reform. 

Failing  to  find  an  authority  competent  to  teach 
me  the  true  sense  of  a  supernatural  revelation,  I  had,, 
step  by  step,  rejected  aU  such  revelation,  and  bnmght 
myself  back  to  simple  nature,  to  the  world  of  the 


68 


THE  CONVERT. 


sensesy  and  to  this  sublunary  life.  I  neither  adserted 
nor  denied  the  existence  of  God.  I  neither 
believed  nor  disbelieved  in  a  life  after  death.  The 
position  I  took  was :  These  are  matters  of  which  I 
know  nothing,  of  which  I  can  know  nothing,  and 
therefore  are  matters  of  which  I  will  endeavor  not  to 
think.  Of  this  world  of  the  senses  I  do  and  may 
know  something.  Here  is  a  work  to  be  done,  here 
is  the  scene  of  my  labors,  and  here  I  will  endeavor 
to  love  mankind  and  make  them  happy.  I  had, 
indeed,  a  very  limited  creed,  but,  nevertheless,  I  had 
one,  which  I  firmly  held.  Half  in  mockery,  but  at 
bottom  in  sober  earnest,  I  drew  up  and  published  it 
such  as  it  was,  just  before  leaving  (Jniversalism.  I 
must  be  permitted  to  transcribe  it. 

MT  CREED. 

"  Almost  every  man  has  a  creed.  There  are  few 
who  do  not  worship  their  creed  with  more  devotion 
than  they  do  their  God,  and  labor  a  thousand  times 
harder  to  support  it  than  they  do  the  truth.  Now,  I 
do  not  like  to  be  singular,  and  I  know  not  why  I  may 
not  have  a  creed  as  well  as  other  folk.  But,  if  I  pub- 
lish my  creed,  consistency  may  require  me  to  defend 
r  it ;  and  when  I  have  once  enlisted  self-love  in  its  de- 
fence, I  may  become  blind  to  the  truth,  and  choose 
rather  to  abide  by  my  first  decision  than  to  admit  that 
I  have  once  decided  wrong.  Yet  a  creed  I  must  and 
will  have,  and  my  readers  shall  know  what  it  is. 

''  My  creed  shall  consist  of  five  points''  (in  allusion 
to  the  five  points  of  Calvinism,  defined  by  the  Synod 


BECOME  A  WORLD-REFORMER. 


69 


of  Dort),  <<and  shall  embrace  all  the  essentials  of 
true  religion.  Furthermore,  I  wish  to  premise  that 
my  creed  was  not  adopted  merely  to-day;  it  has 
been  cordially  embraced,  and  of  its  correctness  I  have 
had  no  doubts  for  at  least  nine  months.  ...  I 
would  allege,  in  behalf  of  my  creed,  that  it  is  plain, 
easy  to  be  understood,  and  withal  involves  no  mys- 
tery. The  pious,  however,  from  this  circumstance 
may  be  led  to  doubt  its  divine  origin,  and  infidels 
may  like  it  so  well  that  I  shall  be  shut  out  from  the 
Church.  But  I  will  state  it,  though  I  must  still 
further  allege  that  I  believe  it  to  be  based  on  eternal 
truth,  and  it  is  calculated,  if  obeyed,  to  harmonize 
this  world,  and  to  enable  the  vast  family  of  man  to 
live  forever  under  the  smiles  of  fraternal  affection. 
But  for  the  creed : — 

"Art.  I.  I  believe  that  every  individual  of  the 
human  family  should  be  honest. 

"Art.  II.  I  believe  that  every  one  should  be 
benevolent  and  kind  to  all. 

"  Art.  III.  I  believe  th^t  every  one  should  use  his 
best  endeavors  to  procure  food,  clothing,  and  shelter 
for  himself,  and  labor  to  enable  all  others  to  procure 
the  same  for  themselves  to  the  full  extent  of  his 
ability. 

"  Art.  IV,  I  believe  every  one  should  cultivate 
his  mental  powers,  that  he  may  open  to  himself  new 
sources  of  enjoyment,  and  also  be  enabled  to  aid  his 
brethren  in  their  attempts  to  improve  the  condition 
of  the  human  race,  and  to  increase  the  sum  of  human 
happiness 


i 


if 


;7o 


THE  COINVERT. 


^  Amr.  V.  I  believe  timt,  if  afl  suinkiBcl  act  on 
tliese  prineiplesy  they  serre  Qt>d  all  they  can  serve 
him ;  that  he  who  has  this  ^Eiith  and  conforms  the 
nearest  unto  what  it  enjoins,  is  the  moi^  acceptaUe 
unto  God."  • 

It  is  easy  to  see  from  this  creed,  so  called  in 
%»ockery,  that  I  rejected  heaven  for  earth,  and  Ood 
for  man,  eternity  for  tisne,  as  the  end  for  which  I 
was  to  live  iand  labor.  The  first  article  indicntes 
my  impression  that  people  generally,  whatever  their 
pretences,  did  not  seriously  believe  in  a  supernatural 
revelation.  I  had,  too,  been  rendered  impatient  by 
the  lectures  I  received  from  various  quarters  on  my 
imprudence  in  not  concealing  my  doubts.  I  disliked 
seeming  to  be  what  I  was  not,  or  professing  to  believe 
what  I  did  not  believe.  I  could  see  no  merit  in 
professing  to  be  a  Christian,  when  I  knew  I  was  no 
Christian.  I  wanted  to  appear  fighting  under  my 
o^vn  colors,  to  speak  out  my  honest  thought,  and  let 
it  go  for  what  it  was  worth.  Yet  I  was  naet  with 
remonstrance.  I  was  not  blamed  for  my  thought, 
but  for  telling  it  *,  and  blamed  for  telling  it,  not  on 
the  ground  that  it  was  false,  but  on  the  ground  that 
it  was  bad  policy  to  tett  it.  I  hated  what  is  called 
policy  then,  and  I  have  no  great  fondness  for  it  even 
yet.  A  man's  life-blood  is  frozen  in  its  current,  his 
intellect  deadened,  and  his  very  soul  annihilated  by 
the  everlasting  dinging  into  his  ears  by  tJhe  wise 
and  prudent,  more  properly  the  timid  and  selfish, 
of  the  admonition  to  be  politic,  to  take  care  not  to 

*  Gotpel  Advocate  and  Impartial  Invettigator,  June  27,  ISSft. 


BECOME  A  WORLD-SETORMEB. 


71 


compromise  one's  cause  or  one^s  friends.  My  soul 
revolted,  and  revolts  even  to-daj,  at  this  admonition. 
Almost  the  only  blunders  I  ever  committed  in  my 
life  were  committed  when  I  studied  to  be  politiC|  and 
prided  myself  on  my  diplomacy. 

Prudence  is  a  virtue,  and  rashness  is  a  sin,  but 
my  own  reason  and  experience  have  taught  me  that 
truth  is  a  far  more  trustworthy  support  than  the  best- 
devised  scheme  of  human  policy  possible.  Honesty 
is  the  best  policy.  Be  honest  with  thyself,  be  honest 
with  all  the  world,  be  true  to  thy  convictions,  be 
faithful  to  what  truth  thou  hast,  be  it  ever  so  little, 
and  never  dream  of  supplying  its  defect  by  thy 
astuteness  or  craft.  Certainly  be  so,  if  thou  believ- 
est  in  a  God  who  is  truth  itself,  and  with  whom  to 
lie  is  impossible.  Fear  not  for  thy  cause,  if  thou 
believest  it  his  cause,  for  it  must  stand  and  prosper 
in  his  wisdom  and  power,  not  in  thy  human  sagacity, 
thy  human  prudence,  thy  human  policy.  Throw 
thyself  heart  and  soul  on  his  truth,  it  will  sustain 
thee  ;  if  not,  be  contented  to  fail.  It  is  compara- 
tively easy  to  know  what  is  true,  what  is  virtuous ; 
but  what,  aside  from  fidelity  to  truth  and  virtue,  is 
wise  policy,  or  genuine  prudence,  surpasses  the  wit 
of  men  to  say.  Never  yet  has  a  great  saint  arisen 
Without  seeming,  to  even  great  and  good  men  in 
Church  or  State  as  well  as  to  the  wise  and  prudent 
men  of  the  world,  terribly  rash,  shockingly  impru- 
dent. No  one  can  be  a  man,  and  do  a  man's  work, 
unless  he  is  sincere,  unless  he  is  in  earnest,  terribly 
in  earnest,  throwing  his  whole  heart  and  soul  into 


h  I 


72 


THE   CONVERT. 


ii 


Lis  work ;  and  whoever  does  so,  may  depend  upon  it 
that  the  chief  men  of  his  sect,  his  party,  or  his 
school,  if  not  of  his  Church,  will  be  alarmed  at  his 
conduct,  will  accuse  him  of  being  ultra,  of  going  too 
far,  of  endangering  everything  by  his  rashness,  his 
want  of  prudence,  of  policy.  I  am  no  saint,  never 
was,  and  never  shall  be  a  saint.  I  am  not,  and  never 
shall  be,  a  great  man ;  but  I  always  had,  and  I  trust 
I  always  shall  have,  the  honor  of  being  regarded  by 
my  friends  and  associates  as  impolitic,  as  rash,  im- 
prudent, and  impracticable.  I  was  and  am,  in  my 
natural  disposition,  frank,  truthful,  straightforward, 
and  earnest;  and  therefore  have  had,  and,  I  doubt 
not,  shall  carry  to  the  grave  with  me,  the  reputation 
of  being  reckless,  ultra,  a  well-meaning  man,  per- 
,haps  an  able  man,  but  so  fond  of  paradoxes  and 
extremes,  that  he  cannot  be  relied  on,  and  is  more 
likely  to  injure  than  serve  the  cause  he  espouses. 
So,  wise  and  prudent  men  shake  their  heads  when 
my  name  is  mentioned,  and  disclaim  all  solidarity 
with  me. 

I  must  be  pardoned  this  burst  of  indignation,— an 
indignation  which  dictated  the  first  article  of  my 
creed  of  1829,  and  which  is  stronger  than  I  wish  it  in 
1857.  I  have  suffered  so  much  from  the  prudence 
of  associates,  have  received  so  many  admonitions  in 
relation  to  my  alleged  ultraisms  and  tendency  to 
run  to  extremes,  so  many  cautions  to  be  moderate,  to 
be  prudent,  to  be  politic,  and  the  like,  that  I  am  a 
little  sore  on  the  point,  and  cannot  keep  as  cool  on 
the  subject  as  becomes  a  man  of  my  age,  gravity,  and 


HKCOME    A    \V()ULD-REr0UMER. 


78 


experience.  Yet  it  is  not  wholly  a  personal  matter 
witii  !ne.  I  am  past  my  prime  of  life,  and  shall  soon 
])e  boyond  the  reach  of  any  personal  annoyance  I 
may  feel.  But  I  would  leave  my  protest  against 
this  tendency  on  the  part  of  the  worshippers  of  rou- 
tine to  damp  the  courage  and  to  stifle  the  energy  oi 
young  and  ardent  spirits  who  come  forward  to  de- 
vote tliemselves  to  the  cause  of  truth  and  virtue.  If 
what  a  man  says  is  true,  and  is  evidently  said  with 
am  honest  intention,  do  not  decry  him,  do  not  disown 
him,  do  not  beat  the  life  out  of  him  by  lectures  on  pru- 
dence ;  stand  by  him,  and  bear  with  him  the  odium 
he  may  incur  by  telling  the  truth,  encourage  him  by 
your  respect  for  his  honesty  and  candor,  and  shelter 
him,  as  far  as  in  your  power,  from  the  reproaches  of 
weak  and  timid  brethren  j  for  be  assured  we  live  in 
an  age  and  country  where  honesty  and  candor,  fidel- 
ity to  one's  honest  convictions,  and  moral  courage  in 
avowing  them,  are  not  virtues  likely  to  become 
excessive.  Fidelity  to  what  one  believes  to  be  true, 
moral  courage  in  adhering  to  our  convictions  before 
the  world,  is  the  greatest  want  of  our  times.  The 
age  lacks  above  all  things  sincerity,  earnestness. 
Give  us  back  these,  give  us  back  the  old-fashioned 
loyalty  of  heart,  and  we  shall  not  need  to  labor  long 
to  bring  the  age  to  see,  own,  and  obey  the  truth 
The  subjective  heresy  of  the  age  is  a  far  greater 
obstacle  to  its  conversion  than  its  objective  errors. 
What  men  most  lack  is  principle — is  the  feeling  that 
they  should  be  true  to  the  riglit ;  and  that  to  be 
manly,  is  to  be  ready  to  follow  the  truth  under  what- 

4 


74 


THE  CONVERT. 


ever  guise  it  may  comOi  to  whatever  it  may  lead,  to 
the  loss  of  reputation,  to  poverty,  to  beggary,  to  the 
dungeon  or  the  scaffold,  to  the  stake  or  exile.  I  have 
had  my  faults,  great  and  grievous  faults,  as  well  as 
others,  but  I  have  never  had  that  of  disloyalty  to 
principle,  or  of  fearing  to  own  my  honest  con  vie-  i 
tions,  however  unpopular  they  might  be,  or  however 
absurd  or  dangerous  the  public  might  regard  them. 
Give  me  rather  the  open,  honest  unbeliever,  who 
pretends  to  believe  nothing  more  than  he  really  does 
believe,  than  your  sleek,  canting  hypocrite,  who  rolls 
up  his  eyes  in  holy  horror  of  unbelief,  and  makes  a 
parade  of  his  orthodoxy,  when  he  believes  not  a 
word  in  the  Gospel,  and  has  a  heart  which  is  a  cage 
of  unclean  beasts,  out  of  which  more  devils  need 
to  be  cast  than  were  cast  out  of  the  Magdalen. 
The  former  may  never  see  God,  but  the  latter 
deserves  the  lowest  place  in  hell.  There  is  hope  of 
the  conversion  of  a  nation  of  unbelievers;  of  the 
conversion  of  a  nation  of  hypocrites,  none.  Sincer- 
ity in  error  is  respectable ;  insincerity  in  the  truth 
is  of  all  things  the  most  reprehensible^  for  it  proves 
the  heart  is  wholly  false,  a  mass  of  corruption,  in 
which  even  divine  grace  can  find,  I  was  about  to  say, 
nothing  to  work  upon,  certainly  nothing  likely  to 
concur  with  it. 

If  my  conscience  would  have  let  me  pretend  to  be 
a  Christian,  after  it  became  clear  I  was  no  Christian 
believer ;  if  I  could,  without  suffering  its  reproaches, 
have  continued  to  profess  my  self  a  Universalist,  after 
I  had  MMed  to  believe  in  revelation,  though  writing 


BECOME  A  WORLD-RBFORlfER. 


75 


or  preaching  nothing  which   I  did  not  really  be- 
lieve, I  doubt  if  the  grace  of  God  would  ever  have 
rescued  me  from  my  errors ;  and  I  must  think  it  was 
his  grace  that  would  not  suffer  me  to  do  so.    My  honest 
avowal  of  unbelief  was,  under  the  circumstances,  a 
step  that  brought  me  nearer  the  kingdom  of  God.     I 
believe  that  the  mass  of  my  countrymen  will  make 
little  advance  towards  the  Gospel  till  they  come  back 
to  honest  nature,  and  consent  to  own  to  themselves 
and  to  the  world   what  they  really  are.     It  is  neces- 
sary, first  of  all,  to  make  away  with  all  shams,  to 
use  one  of  Carlyle*s  terms,  to  get  rid  of  all  illusions, 
and  to  believe  a  lie  is  a  lie,  and  that  no  lie  shall 
stand.     We  live  in  an  age  of  shams,  of  illusions ; 
and  the  saddest  thing  of  all  is,  that,  while  we  have 
no  faith  in   reality,  we  believe  in  shams,  we  trust 
illusions,  and  sny,  These  be  thy  gods,  O  Israel !  that 
have  brought  thee  up  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt.     If 
we  have  not  advanced   to   faith  in  the  Gospel,  let 
us  return  to  simple  nature,  and  have  at  least  the 
natural  order,  which,  after  all,  is  real,  on  which  to 
plant  our  feet. 

The  end  of  man,  as  disclosed  by  "  my  creed  "  of 
1829,  is  obviously  an  earthly  end,  to  be  attained  in 
this  life.  Man  was  not  made  for  God,  and  destined 
to  find  his  beatitude  in  the  possession  of  God,  his 
supreme  good,  the  Supreme  Good  itself.  His  end 
was  happiness,  not  happiness  in  God,  but  in  the 
possession  of  the  good  things  of  this  world.  Our 
Lord  had  said  :  ^^  Be  not  anxious  as  to  what  ye  shall 
eat,  or  what  ye  shall  drink,  or  wherewithal  ye  shall 


76 


THE  CONVEUT. 


\'^ 


be  clotliod,  for  after  all  these  things  do  the  heattien 
seek."  I  gave  him  a  flat  denial^  and  said  :  Be  anxious^ 
labor  especially  for  these  things,  first  for  yourselves, 
tlien  for  others.  Enlarging,  however,  my  views  a 
little,  I  said :  Man's  end  for  which  he  is  to  labor,  is 
the  well-b(ang  and  happiness  of  mankind  in  this 
world — is  to  develop  man^s  whole  nature,  and  so  to 
organize  society  and  government  as  to  secure  all  men 
a  paradise  on  the  earth.  This  view  of  the  end  to  labor 
for,  I  held  steadily  and  without  wavering  from  1828 
till  1842,  when  I  began  to  find  myself  tending  uncon- 
sciously towards  the  Catholic  Church.  The  various 
systems  I  embraced  or  defended,  whether  social  or 
political,  ethical  or  sesthetical,  philosophical  or  theo- 
logical, were  all  subordinated  to  this  end,  as  means 
by  which  man's  earthly  condition  was  to  be  melio- 
rated. I  sought  truth,  I  sought  knowledge,  I  sought 
virtue  for  no  other  end,  and  it  was,  not  in  seeking 
to  save  my  soul,  to  please  God,  or  to  have  the  true 
religion,  that  I  was  led  to  the  Catholic  Church,  but 
to  obtain  the  means  of  gaining  the  earthly  happiness 
of  mankind.  My  end  was  man's  earthly  happiness, 
and  my  creed  was  progress.  In  regard  to  neither 
did  I  change  or  swerve  in  the  least,  till  the  truth  of 
the  Catholic  Church  was  forced  upon  my  mind  and 
my  heart.  During  the  period  of  fourteen  years,  the 
greater  part  of  which  I  was  accused  of  changing  at 
least  once  every  three  months,  I  never  changed  once 
in  my  principles  or  my  purposes,  and  all  I  did  change 
were  my  tools,  my  instruments,  or  my  modes  of 
operation. 


BECOMK    A    WOIJLD-KKFOUMKU. 


In  rcnoiinciug  Universalism,  which  with  me  was 
only  a  stage  in  my  transition  from  the  religion  of  my 
childliood  to  socialism,  I  had  renounced  all  fear  and 
all  hope  in  regard  to  another  world  ;  and  though  sub- 
sequently, as  a  Unitarian,  I  held  to  a  future  existence, 
it  was  merely  a  continuation  of  our  natural  life,  a 
natural  immortality,  which  did  not  include  the  resur- 
rection of  the  flesh,  or  rewards  and  punishments  in 
a  Christian  sense.  I  felt  easy  in  regard  to  the  future, 
and  was  in  the  habit  of  maintaining  that  the  best  way 
to  secun^  a  heaven  hereafter  is  to  create  a  heaven 
for  mankind  in  this  world.  For  years  I  hold  this 
iiKixim,  and  never  troubled  myself  at  all  in  regard 
to  what  might  be  my  fate  or  that  of  others  after 
death.  1  had  a  firm  belief  in  progress,  full  confidence 
in  philosophy,  and  a  strong  desire  to  contribute  to 
the  welfare  of  my  fellow-men,  to  reform  the  world, 
and  create  an  earthly  paradise  for  the  human  race ; 
but  I  had  very  little  thought  or  sense  of  my  duty  to 
God,  and  no  serious  care  for  anything  beyond  the 
service  of  my  neighbor  in  relation  to  this  life.  I 
recognized  God,  but  only  in  man,  and  I  held  that  he 
exis^ts  for  us  only  in  human  nature. 

For  years  I  went  no  farther  in  my  thoughts,  and 
thirsted  for  nothing  higher  or  broader.  I  had 
sclioolcd  my  feelings  and  my  imagination  to  my 
nariovv  carnal  Judaism,  and  experienced  nothing  of 
tliat  craving  for  an  unseen  and  spiritual  good,  that 
scent  longing  for  God  and  religion,  of  which  so  much 
use  is  made  in  our  arguments  agahist  unbelievers. 
1  felt  none  of   that   trouble   which   I   felt   formerly 


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78 


THE  CONVERT. 


when  I  found  my  childhood's  belief  escaping  me.  I 
am  convinced  by  my  own  experience  that  our  phil- 
anthropists and  world-reformers  may  become  so 
engrossed  in  their  plans  that  they  do  not  experience 
that  aching  void  within,  that  emptiness  of  all  created 
things,  which  we  sometimes  imagine.  Their  phil- 
anthropy is  a  religion  unto  them.  Evori  failures  do 
not  at  once  discourage  them,  for  they  find  their  relief 
in  their  doctrine  of  progress.  It  is  idle  to  tell  them 
that  the  good  they  seek  is  bounded,  and  that  the 
soul  craves  an  unbounded  good ;  for,  holding  to  pro- 
gress, to  the  indefinite  perfectibility  of  man,  they 
are  unable  to  assign  any  limits  to  the  good  to  which 
they  are  wedded ;  and  as  progress  implies  imperfec- 
tion, they  have  a  ready  excuse  for  their  failures.  We 
have  failed  to-day,  but  we  shall  succeed  to-morrow. 
I  was  mistaken,  my  experiment  was  not  successful, 
but  I  will  do  better  next  time.  Or,  if  I  die  without 
succeeding,  the  human  race  is  progressive,  each  new 
generation  is  wiser  than  the  last,  and  the  generation 
coming  after  me  will  succeed,  and  my  labors,  my 
experiments,  my  failures  even,  will  perhaps  con- 
tribute to  its  success.  So  they  will  not  be  in  vain, 
ludividuald  die,  but  the  race  survives,  is  immortal. 
Thus  hope  revives  from  failure  ]  and  the  individual 
consoles  himself  with  the  belief  that  what  he  cannot 
accomplish,  the  race  in  its  march  through  the  ages 
will  effect,  and  his  labors  meet  their  reward  in  the 
increased  virtue  and  happiness  of  mankind. 

We  cannot  reach  the  socialist,  who  has  made  a 
religion  of  his  socialism,  by  appeals  to  his  love  of 


BRCOME  A  WORLD-REFORMEB. 


79 


happiness,  or  to  the  failures  of  his  undertakings.  I 
would  that  I  could  feel  the  fervor,  the  enthusiasm)  in 
the  cause  of  the  truth,  which  at  one  period  I  felt  in 
the  cause  of  socialism.  The  fact  is,  the  socialist  is 
not  all  wrong.  You  may  declaim  against  him  as 
much  as  you  please,  but  it  will  be  none  the  less  true 
that  he  is  often  govemed  by  noble  instincts,  by 
generous  sentiments,  which  Christianity  does  not 
disown,  but  accepts  and  consecrates.  He  has  also 
certain  aspects  even  of  Christian  truth,  or  aspects  of 
truth  which,  without  the  Christian  revelation  and  the 
operations  of  Christian  charity,  he  never  would  have 
beheld.  In  those  aspects  of  truth  which  he  has,  and 
to  which  he  is  devoted,  we  must  take  our  point  of 
departure  in  leading  him  to  renounce  hia  erron. 


^'1 


CHAPTER  VI. 


METHODS  OF  WORLD- RKKORM. 


.■  ->:. 


I  HAD  fixed  the  end  for  which  I  was 'to  hibor, — the 
creation  of  an  earthly  paradise  j  but  the  means  of 
gaining  it  were  not  well  determined.  ^\y  own  mi  jd 
was  very  nearly  balanced  between  two  contradietory 
tiieories :  the  theory  of  individualism,  and  tliat  of 
communism.  I  had  read,  had,  in  fact,  studied  with 
great  assiduity,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  works 
in  our  language.  An  Enquiry  concerning  ilie  Prin- 
ciples of  Political  Justice,  if  I  recollect  tlie  title  aright, 
by  William  Godwin,  originally  a  Calvinistic  dissent- 
ing minister,  at  Stowmarket,  England,  whence,  in 
1787,  he  removed  to  London,  where  he  devoted 
himself  to  literature.  He  was  the  author  of  '*  Caleb 
Williams,"  "St.  Leon,"  '^Fleetwood,"  "Manrleville," 
"  Cloudsley,"  a  work  on  "  Population,"  in  reply  to 
Malthus,  *^  A  History  of  the  Commonwealth  of 
England,"  "  The  Life  and  Times  of  Chaucer,"  and 
several  other  works,  the  titles  of  which  I  forget. 
He  married,  in  1797,  Mary  WoUstonecraft,  a  writer  of 
some  distinction,  best  known  as  the  author  of  a  work 
entitled,  "  Rights  of  Woman,"  a  pendant  to  Paine'ti 
"  Rights  of  Man,"  and  which  may  be  regarded  as  the 
Bible  of  our  Women's  Rights  party.     She  was  the 


MKTliOlKS    (  F    W(»KLl)-i:KK()KM. 


•I 


niotlicr  of  Mary  Godwin,  wlio  wrote  Frankenstein,  a 
niotit  fearful  story,  fitted  to  jjive  one  tlie  nightmare 
for  three  weeks  after  reading  it;  and  who,  after  hid 
ilivoree  from  his  wife,  was  re«;arded  as  married  to 
the  poet  SlieUey.  Godwin's  novels  wore  much  read 
in  their  day,  and  it  is  easy  to  trace  their  influence 
in  the  [)ro(luctions  of  Charles  Brockden  Hrown,  (»ne 
ot  our  earliest  American  novelists,  who  meiits  a 
hi^'her  rank  in  American  literature  than  has  l)e«'n 
commonly  assigned  him.  Sir  Edward  IJulwer  Lyttou 
owes,  in  his  earlier  novels,  much  to  those  of  Godwin, 
and  Cahb  Williams  and  St  Leon  are  still  read.  As 
a  writer,  for  calmness  and  strength,  for  rejDose  and 
energy  combined,  Godwin  has  scarcely  a  rival  in 
the  English  language ;  and  his  style  deserves  to  be 
studied  by  every  one  who  would  master  the  purity, 
elegance,  and  force  of  our  mother-tongue.  I  know 
no  other  English  writer  who,  unmoved  himself,  so  ^ 
powerfully  moves  his  readers ;  and  he  is  almost  tiie 
only  English  writer,  since  I^urke's  unhappy  influonce 
on  the  language,  who  has  written  truly  classical  . 
English,  or  our  language  according  to  its  real  genius. 
The  work  on  Political  .Justice  was  first  publisluMl 
in  1792,  and  was  republished  in  a  second  edition, 
mucli  modified  from  the  first,  in  1794.  My  edition 
was  the  second.  I  have  it  not  now,  and  have  not 
seen  it  these  twenty  years,  but  I  remember  its  contents 
very  distinctly.  It  was  inspired  by  the  enthusiasm 
.created  by  the  French  Revolution  of  178',)  in  a 
'large  class  of  the  civilized  world,  and  contains 
iiearly  al!  lli<'  iMlse  niid  (l;»ngei-()ns    priiu'i|)l('S  i»f  i!t.it 


82 


TIIK  C(»NVERT. 


'.  ! 


Ue volution,  systematically  arranged,  developed,  and 
puslied  to  their  laiit  consequences  with  a  merciless 
logic,  and  a  chasteness,  vigor,  grace,  and  elegance  of 
language,  which  I  have  never  seen  surpassed.  I  hod 
read  this  book  when  quite  a  lad,  but  without  under- 
standing it ;  and  I  had  read  it  again  as  a  Universal- 
ist,  and  appropriated  many  of  its  ideas.  I  now  read 
it  still  again  as  a  Socialist,  and  I  think  it  has  had  more 
influence  on  my  mind  than  any  other  book,  except 
the  Scriptures,  I  have  ever  read.  There  is  scarcely 
a  modern  error  that  it  does  not  contain ;  and  he  who 
has  mastered  it,  may  regard  himself  as  in  possession 
of  nearly  every  error  the  human  mind  is  capable  of 
inventing.  It  denies  as  unjust  all  punishment,  ex- 
cept restraint  from  actual  violence,  and  consequently 
all  capital  punishment,  and  all  penitentiaries.  The 
author  contends  that  the  only  law  is  justice,  and  jus- 
tice requires  us  to  treat  every  man  according  to  his 
intrintiic  worth,  although  he  forgets  to  tell  us  how  we 
are  to  discover  it ;  and  therefore,  that  if  my  neighbor 
I  as  more  intrinsic  worth  than  I,  I  am  to  love  him  more, 
if  loss,  I  am  to  love  him  less,  than  myself.  If  his 
father,  mother,  sister,  brother,  wife,  or  child,  is  more 
worthy  than  mine,  then  am  I  to  love  them  more  than 
mine ;  if  mine  are  the  more  worthy,  then  am  I  to 
love  mine  the  most.  If  a  rude  man  attacks  me  and 
threatens  my  life,  I  am  to  consider  whether  his  life 
or  mine,  upon  the  whole,  is  the  more  worthy ;  if 
mine,  then  I  am  to  defend  my  life  at  the  expense  of 
his,  if  necessary ;  if  his,  then  I  am  to  offer  him  no 
resistance,  but  let  him  kill  mc,  if  he  chooses.     Mar- 


METHODS  OK  WOKLD-KKFOUM. 


83 


riage,  by  which  two  persons  pledge  themselves  to 
love  each  other  exclusively  until  death  separates 
them)  is  repugnant  to  justice,  for  it  may  happen 
that  neither  is  the  most  worthy ;  or  if,  at  the  time  of 
marriage,  they  be  so,  one  or  the  other,  or  both,  may 
cease  to  be  so,  long  before  the  death  of  either. 
There  is  no  magic  in  that  pronoun  my^  by  which  I 
am  jubtitied  in  loving  my  wife,  because  she  is  mine. 
If  my  neighbor's  wife  is  more  worthy  than  mine,  I  am 
bound  to  bve  her  the  most.  I  am  to  love  the  most 
worthy,  and  all  are  bound  in  like  manner  to  love  her 
most  who  is  really  the  most  worthy  of  all.  It  would 
happen,  then,  that  all  would  be  bound  to  love  the 
most  one  and  the  same  woman.  But  might  not  this 
create  rivalries,  jealousies,  etc.  f  No,  for  we  could 
all  enjoy  her  conversation,  and  anything  more 
could  be  easily  enough  arranged.  The  author  for- 
got, and  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  ask,  how  all  the 
men  of  the  world  were  to  find  out  what  particular 
woman  among  all  living  women  is  the  most  worthy, 
or  how,  in  case  she  is  found  out,  she  is  to  entertain 
them  all  with  her  conversation.  Women  have  great 
facility  in  the  use  of  the  tongue,  but  it  would  be 
somewhat  difficult  for  one  woman  to  converse  with 
a  hundred  millions  of  men. 

Godwin  did  not  propose  precisely  to  abolish  prop- 
erty, but  he  laid  down  the  principle,  that  justice 
declares  the  property  belongs  to  him  who  most  needs 
it.  Justice  is  reciprocal.  What  it  is  just  for  me  to 
give  another,  he  has  a  right  to  demand.  If  my  neigh- 
bor needs  what  is  in  my  possession,  or  some  portion  : 


I 


r 


1 


84 


TIIK   CONVEUT, 


of  it,  more  tlinn  I  do,  he  has  the  right  to  take  it  with- 
out asking  iny  leave.  Tliis  doctrine  rather  pleased 
me,  for  I  had  less  than  niyjiliare,  and  therefore  more 
to  gain  than  to  lose  hy  it.  In  the  name  of  justice 
the  author  denied  all  schools,  especially  j)ul>lic 
schools,  for  they  all  impose,  in  some  form,  the  opin- 
ions of  the  masters,  or,  through  them,  of  the  parents 
and  guardians,  on  tlicir  pupils.  This  is  contrary  to 
justice.  What  right  have  I  to  impose  my  opinion 
on  another,  or  to  take  measures  to  bring  up  my  child 
or  another's  in  my  opinions,  religious,  political,  or 
moral  f  Thought  is  that  which  is  most  essentially 
the  man,  and  therefcre  that  in  him  which  should  be 
freest.  We  may  urge  the  man  or  the  child  to  think, 
but  mu.«t  never  tell  either  what  he  ought  to  think. 
This  seemed  to  me  so  reasonable  and  just, — if  the 
rule  of  private  judgment  be  adopted, —  that  so  long 
as  I  remained  a  Protestant,  I  took  good  care  never 
to  give  my  own  children  any  religious  instruction. 
Parents,  Godwin  maintained,  have  no  more  right  to 
control  the  thoughts  or  the  opinions  of  their  own 
children,  than  they  have  the  children  of  others. 
How  he  managed  with  his  own  daughter  Mary,  I 
know  not.  He  w^as  not  married  when  he  wrote  his 
book. 

On  the  same  principle  that  he  destroys  the  family, 
and  all  family  affections  as  such,  Godwin  destroys 
patriotism  and  the  nation.  Why  should  I  love  my 
country  more  than  another  I  Why  am  I  to  love  any- 
thing because  it  is  mine  ?  Why  am  I  to  prefer  my 
countryman  to  a  foreigner !     What  i'ight  have  I  to 


AIKTIIODS   OF    WOULD-KKF    KM. 


85 


regard  any  man  as  a  forpif^fiier  t  If  my  country  in 
in  the  ri^'lit,  I  may  indeed  support  lier,  not  because 
she  is  mine,  hut  because  she  is  in  the  right,  l^ut  if 
in  the  wrong,  I  may  neillier  defend  her,  nor  wish  her 
defended.  Justice  requires  me  to  wish  Ijer  defeat. 
On  this  doctrine,  distinct  nations  cainiot  exist,  and 
the  author  contends  that  they  ougiit  not  to  exist, 
tlustice  brealcs  down  and  obliterates  all  national  dis- 
tinctions ;  and  thus  at  once  abolislies  all  national 
rivabnes  and  jealousies,  and  all  international  wars, 
by  removing  their  causes.  The  author,  also,  rejects 
all  government.  All  men  are  equal  before  the  law 
of  justice,  and  no  man  has  the  right  to  govern 
another.  For  the  same  reason  no  number  of  men, 
not  even  the  majority,  have  any  right  to  make  their 
will  or  their  reason  prevail  as  law.  Each  man  has 
the  sovereignty  of  himself.  All  government,  there- 
fore, whether  monarchical,  aristocratical,  demo- 
cratical,  or  mixed,  is  founded  in  injustice,  is  a 
usurpation,  a  tyranny,  and  without  authority. 

These  principles  involve  complete  individualism, 
and  leave  every  man  free  to  do  what  seems  right  in 
his  own  eyes.  The  plain,  old-fashioned  reader, 
unacquainted  with  world-reforms,  naturally  wonders 
how  it  is  that  a  man  of  the  ability  and  education  of 
Willia.n  (i(»dwin,  a  man  of  a  sharp  intellect,  and 
some  knowledge  of  human  nature,  could  ever  have 
fancied  that  mankind  could  attempt  to  carry  such 
jirincipies  into  practice,  without  falling  into  anarchy 
.ind  a  worst;  tlian  the  savage  state.  It  is  because  he 
docs  not  know  all  the  resources  of  world-reformers. 


I 


1 
i 


j 


H 


TIIK  CONVi.RT. 


He  takes  their  plan  aa  something  to  be  adopted  by 
mankind  as  they  are,  as  a  piece  of  new  cloth  to  be 
sewn  on  to  an  old  garment,  and  sees  at  once  that 
they  would  take  from  the  old,  and  the  rent  be  made 
worse.  But  they  propose  an  entire  new  garment, 
in  fact,  a  recasting  of  the  essential  nature  of  man, 
and  they  intend  to  introduce  all  the  changes  neces- 
sary to  the  successful  working  of  their  schemes. 
According  to  Godwin,  man  hB%  no  innate  instincts, 
or  natural  tendencies  in  the  way  of  the  reformer,  no 
stubborn  natural  character  that  persists  through  all 
the  modifications  introduced  by  education  or  moral 
and  intellectual  culture.  All  the  vices  of  individual 
character,  and  all  the  evils  of  society,  whence  man 
has  become  the  greatest  plague  and  tormentor  of  his 
kind,  come  from  without,  not  from  within,  and  are 
due  to  civil  government.  Abolish  civil  government, 
recognize  natural  justice  as  the  only  law  of  the  race, 
and  leave  the  law  to  execute  itself,  and  you  will 
remove  all  evik,  individual  and  social.  Leave  men 
to  reason,  confide  in  reason,  and  never  attempt  to 
give  reason  the  aid  of  physical  force,  or  think  of 
correcting  the  mind  by  inflicting  pain  on  the  body. 
Men,  freed  from  all  unjust  restraint,  from  all  vexa- 
tious interference  of  authority,  finding  their  reason 
respected  and  their  just  rights  allowed,  will  have 
no  temptation  to  rebel,  no  provocation  to  encroach 
on  any  one's  rights,  and  will  of  themselves  fall  into 
their  proper  places,  and  observe  with  fidelity  all  the 
laws  of  justice.  As  the  experiment  has  never  been 
tried,  it  is  not  easy  to  prove  the  contrary  ;  and  if  you 


METU0D8  O:     WUUIJ>-UKr(>UM. 


87 


adopt  the  doctrine  of  the  inherent  integrity  of  nature, 
and  the  indefinite  perfectibility  of  man,  you  cannot 
deny  that  the  scheme  has,  on  one  side  at  least,  a 
certain  degree  of  plausibility.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  the  author  is  right  in  denying  the  justice  of  all 
government  resting  on  purely  human  authority;  and 
I  have  never  been  able  to  understand  how  they  who 
deny  that,  though  governments  are  constituted  by 
men,  they  derive  their  authority  to  govern  im- 
mediately from  Qod,  can  deny  Godwin^s  doctrine, 
tliat  all  governments  are  founded  in  injustice. 
There  is  just  as  little  doubt  that  many  of  the  de- 
pravities of  individual  character,  and  many  of  the 
evils  of  society,  originate  in  the  effort  to  govern  men 
by  brute  force.  Princes  should  be  shepherds  of  the 
people,  not  dominators. 

Even  the  absurdest  and  most  mischievous  ot 
Godwin^s  principles  have  a  certain  reflection  of 
Christian  trutli.  His  doctrine,  that  we  should  love  the 
most  worthy,  irrespective  of  their  personal  relation  to 
us,  is  true  in  the  abstract ;  and  hence  we  are  to  forsako 
father  and  mother,  wife  and  cliildren,  houses  and 
lands,  and  even  give  up  our  own  life  for  our  Lord,  for 
God,  the  infinitely  worthy.  In  a  certain  sense,  the 
proprietor  is  only  a  steward,  and  the  surplus  of  his 
property  belongs  to  the  poor ;  but  Christianity  makes 
its  distribution  an  act  of  charity,  not  of  justice.  Mar- 
riage,  in  the  Cliristian  sense,  is  really  practicable  with 
the  majority  of  the  non-laboring  classes  only  by  tho 
grace  of  the  sacrament.  For  men  and  women  in  easy 
circunistances,   who  are  not  Christians,   but  aban- 


88 


Tllh   CONVKKT. 


donod  to  simple  unaHHlstcMl  nature,  it  la  n  burden  too 
great  to  be  borne,  as  the  experience  of  uil  agog  Huffi- 
ciontly  proves.  Ahniglity  God,  under  the  ol«l  law, 
dispensed  the  Jews  from  many  of  its  rigors ;  and  tlio 
Protestant  Reformers,  denying  marriage  to  be  a 
sacrament,  authorized  divorce  from  the  bond  of 
matrimony,  and,  in  certain  cases,  permitted  poly- 
^  gamy.  Christian  marriage  is  above  the  strength  of 
human  nature  in  our  present  fallen  state,  and  needs 
Christian  grace.  It  need  not  surprise  us,  then,  that 
honest  and  enlightened  men  and  women,  far 
enough  themselves  from  being  of  a  licentious  turn, 
yet  ignorant  of  the  Christian  faith,  and  with  no 
knowledge  of,  or  belief  in,  the  Christian  sacraments, 
should  revolt  at  Catholic  marriage,  and  labor  not 
only  to  render  it  dissoluble,  but  easily  dissoluble, 
and  for  slight,  even  trivial,  causes. 

Hut,  though  Godwin  had  a  powerful  influence  on 
my  mind,  he  did  not  absolutely  master  it.  I  would 
retain  my  own  individuality,  but  I  could  not  bring 
my  mind  to  believe  that  all  social  organization,  all 
associated  action,  must  be  condemned  as  repugnant 
to  justice.  Man  is  social  by  nature,  and  he  has 
wants  which  can  be  met  only  by  the  provisions  of 
society.  Grant  that  the  depravities  of  individual 
character  originate  in  government, — kingcraft  and 
priestcraft ;  but  in  what  have  these  originated  ?  If 
they  are  unjust,  as  you  maintain,  there  must  be  a 
source  of  injustice  prior  to  them,  and  independent  of 
them.  Then  their  simple  removal  will  not  necessa- 
rily secure  the  reign  of  justice.     Then  how  arc  we  to 


MKTIIDDS   OF   WOULD- UiCKOUM. 


89 


roniove  thcin  by  simplo  individiuil  action  T  Hy 
simple  nppoaU  to  reason^  by  Hiinply  enli^htcniii*;  thn 
MiKlorstandinn  f  Jiiit  is  it  not  a  well-known  fact  tli.it 
|)r«>jii(li(.'o  in  n  bar  to  cnli^litcnmcnt^  and  aUo  tliat 
nuHi  arc  very  fur  from  actin«^  always  in  acconlanco 
with  their  convictions  of  ri;;ht  I  Men  know  what  is 
just,  and  yet  do  it  not.  1  find,  when  I  would  do 
j^ood,  evil  is  present  with  me,  and  the^'ood  I  woul  I, 
J  do  nut.  No:  to  remove  corrupt  and  corrupt in;^ 
^governments,  to  overthrow  kingcraft,  to  abtdi^h 
priestcraft,  to  free  men  from  superstition,  from  vain 
hopes  and  idle  terrors,  from  the  effects  of  false  educa- 
tion, unfavorable  circumstances,  evil  influenc(»s,  the 
l)rejudiees  accumulating  through  long  ages  of  igno- 
rance and  barbarism,  and  to  render  man  the  free,  tho 
noble,  majestic  being  I  would  have  him,  I  need  some- 
thing more  than  simple  individual  intelligence,  and 
something  more  than  the  simple  strength  of  individual 
will.  I  want  and  must  have  a  greater  than  simplo 
individual  power.  For  the  present,  at  least,  I  nmst 
avail  myself  of  the  principle  of  association,  and, 
instead  of  sweeping  away  all  organization^  must 
endeavor  to  perfect  social  organization,  and  use  it 
as  a  means  of  gaining  the  end  I  propose. 

Here  I  found  myself  cooperating  with  the  well- 
known  Frances  Wright,  who  seemed  to  me  to  have 
hit  upon  a  just  medium  between  the  individualism  of 
Godwin,  and  the  communism  of  Owen.  Frances 
Wright  was  born  in  Scotland  near  the  end  of  the  bust 
century,  and  inherited  a  considerable  property.  She 
had  been  highly  educated,  and  was  a  woman  of  rare 


90 


THE  CONVEKT. 


original  powers,  and  extensive  and  varied  informa- 
tion. She  was  brought  up  in  the  utilitarian  prin- 
ciples of  Jeremy  Bentham,  was  often  an  inmate  of 
the  family  of  General  Lafayette  at  La  Grange,  and  in 
the  general's  suite  she  visited  this  country  in  1824. 
Returning  to  £ngland  in  1825,  she  published  a  book 
on  the  United  States,  in  a  strain  of  almost  unbounded 
eulogy  of  the  American  people  and  their  institutions. 
She  saw  only  one  stain  upon  our  character,  one  thing 
in  our  condition  to  censure  or  ti>  deplore  :  that  was 
negro-slavery,  which  struck  her  m  it  does  most 
Europeans,  as  an  anomaly,  and  wholly  incompatible 
with  our  theory  of  human  rights. 

When  in  the  next  year  Mr.  Owen  came,  with  his 
friends,  to  commence  his  experiment  of  creating  a 
new  moral  world  at  New  Harmony,  Frances  Wright 
came  with  him,  not  as  a  full  believer  in  his  crotchets, 
but  to  try  an  experiment,  devised  with  Jefferson, 
Lafayette,  and  others,  for  the  emancipation  of  the 
negro  slaves.  The  plan  was  to  make  the  slaves 
wark  out  the  price  of  their  own  emancipation,  and 
to  prepare  them,  while  they  were  doing  it,  by  a 
peculiar  system  of  training,  for  freedom.  She 
believed  it  possible  to  make  the  labor  of  the  slaves 
sufficiently  profitable  to  support  themselves,  and  to 
remunerate  her  for  the  price  she  must  pay  their 
owners  for  them ;  and  while  they  were  doing  this,  by 
subjecting  them  to  the  moral  and  intellectual  disci- 
pline of  her  philosophical  principles,  or  the  system  of 
education  she  proposed  to  adopt,  to  render  them 
moral   and    intelligent,    free    and    independent    in 


\ 


METHODS  Cr  WOBLD-REFOBH. 


n 


character,  in  every  respect  the  equals  of  the  whites. 
She  accordingly  purchased  a  plantation  and  some 
negroes  at  Nashoba  in  the  State  of  Tennessee,  about 
fifteen  miles  from  Memphis,  and  commenced  her 
experiment,  which  failed  in  less  than  two  years,  as 
she  alleged,  in  consequence  of  her  own  illness  for 
several  months,  and  her  inability  to  find  persons  to 
manage  it,  who  combined  the  several  qualities 
requisite,  on  the  one  hand,  for  its  economical  man- 
agement, and,  on  the  other,  for  carrying  out  her 
educational  system,  or  her  moral  and  philosophical 
ideas.  Yet  it  should  be  mentioned  to  her  honor  that 
she  gave  her  slaves  their  freedom,  and  settled  them 
in  Hayti,  which  was  then  a  republic  under  President 
Boyer. 

The  negro  experiment  having  failed,  Fanny 
enlarged  her  views,  and  discovered  that  the  people 
of  the  United  States  were  not  as  yet  prepared  to 
engage  in  earnest  for  the  abolition  of  slavery,  that 
the  whites  were  as  much  slaves  as  the  blacks,  and 
that  negro  slavery  was  only  a  branch  of  the  huge 
tree  of  evil,  which  overshadowed  the  whole  land. 
There  was  little  wisdom  in  wasting  one's  time  and 
resources  in  the  attempt  to  lop  it  off  while  the  tree 
itself  was  left  standing.  The  axe  must  be  laid  at 
the  root  of  the  tree,  and  slavery  must  be  abolished 
only  as  the  result  of  a  general  emancipation,  and  a 
radical  reform  of  the  American  people  themselves. 

The  first  step  to  be  taken  was  to  rouse  the  Ameri- 
can mind  to  a  sense  of  its  rights  and  dignity,  to 
emancipate  it  from  superstition,  from  its  subjection 


92 


THE   CONVERT. 


to  the  clergy,  and  its  fear  of  unseen  powers ;  to  with- 
draw it  from  the  contemplation  of  the  stars  or  an 
imaginary  heaven  after  death,  and  fix  it  on  the  great 
and  glorious  work  of  promoting  man's  earthly  well- 
being.  The  second  step  was,  by  political  action,  to 
get  adopted,  at  the  earliest  practicable  moment,  a 
system  of  state  schools,  in  which  all  the  children 
from  two  years  old  and  upward  should  be  fed,  clothed, 
in  a  word,  maintained,  instructed,  and  educated  at 
the  public  expense.  In  furtherance  of  the  first 
object,  Fanny  prepared  a  course  of  lectures  on 
Knowledge,  which  she  proposed  to  deliver  in  the 
principal  cities  and  towns  of  the  Union.  She  had 
acquired  a  high  literary  reputation,  and  bad  still 
property  enough  left  to  permit  her  to  go  through  the 
country  and  deliver  her  lectures  at  her  own  expense. 
She  thought  she  possessed  advantages  in  the  fact  that 
she  was  a  woman,  for  there  would  for  that  reason  be 
a  greater  curiosity  to  hear  her,  and  she  would  be 
permitted  to  speak  with  greater  boldness  and  direct- 
ness against  the  clergy  and  superstition,  than  would 
be  one  of  the  other  sex. 

She  commenced  delivering  her  lectures  in  the 
autumn  of  1828,  at  Cincinnati,  and  soon  produced 
no  little  excitement.  She  gave  them  subsequently 
in  New  York,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  Albany,  Utica, 
Auburn,  Buffalo,  and  various  other  places.  Her 
lectures  were  eminently  popular.  Her  free,  flowing, 
and  ornate  style, — French  rather  than  English, — 
her  fine,  rich,  musical  voice,  highly  cultivated  and 
possessing  great  power,  her   graceful   manner,  her 


METHODS   OF    WORLD- RKFORM. 


93 


tall,  commanding  figure,  her  wit  and  sarcasm,  her 
{ijiparent  honesty  of  purpose,  and  deep  and  glowing 
ciitliiisiasm,  made  her  one  of  the  most  pleasing  and 
cfftjctive  orators,  man  or  woman,  that  I  have  ever 
licard.  The  Evangelicals,  of  course,  were  hostile  to  ^ 
lior,  and  said  all  manner  of  things  against  her,  for 
the  most  part  untrue,  and  did  all  in  their  power,  not, 
ot  course,  to  disprove  her  doctrine,  but  to  render  her 
personally  odious.  This  was  particularly  the  ease 
in  Auburn,  Cayuga  Co.,  N.  Y.  Auburn  was  then 
a  village  containing  between  three  and  four  thou- 
sand inh<ibitants,  divided,  as  usual  in  all  our  villages, 
into  a  large  number  of  sects.  The  hard  things  that 
were  said  of  Fanny  came  to  her  ears,  and  at  the  close  s, 
of  one  of  her  lectures,  she  quietly,  and  in  the  sweetest 
manner  imaginable,  remarked : 

"  We  have  here  this  evening  considered  the  sub- 
ject of  Religion.  To-morrow  evening,  at  half  past 
seven  o'clock,  we  will  meet  again  at  this  place  to  dis- 
cuss the  subject  of  Morals.  I  observed,  in  driving 
through  your  beautifid  village  to-day,  the  spires  of 
six  meeting-houses,  belonging  to  as  many  different 
religious  denominiitions,  and  I  was  told  that  there 
were  two  or  three  other  denominations  that  have  not 
as  yet  erected  meeting-houses  for  themselves.  It  is 
evident  that  religion  must  have  been  well  discussed 
among  you,  and  that  you  are  eminently  a  religious 
people.  I  have  travelled  much  and  visited  many 
countries,  and  in  no  place  have  I  been  so  uncour- 
teously  received,  or  be^n  the  subject  of  so  much 
personal  insult,  as  in   your  most  religious  village. 


1 1 

111! 


94 


THE  CONVERT. 


Perhaps  it  will  not  be  inappropriate  for  xa  to  spend 
one  evening  in  discussing  the  subject  of  Morals. '^ 

About  the  time  that  she  commenced  her  brief 
career  as  a  public  lecturer  on  Knowledge,  Fanny,  in 
connection  with  Robert  Dale  Owen,  the  eldest  son  of 
Robert  Owen,  and  Robert  L.  Jennings,  a  Scotchman, 
^tarted  a  weekly  journal  in  New  York,  called  The 
Free  Enquirer,  converted  an  old  meeting-house  into 
a  ''Hall  of  Science,"  and  put  in  operation  all  the 
machinery  of  a  most  vigorous  propagandism.  In 
1830  she  revisited  France,  where  she  became  the 
wife  of  M.  Darusmont,  who,  as  William  Phiqucpal, 
had  been  her  travelling  companion  and  man  of  busi- 
ness during  her  lecturing  tours.  She  was  present  in 
Paris  during  the  Revolution  of  July,  and  remained 
abroad  for  several  years.  She  returned,  indeed,  to 
this  country,  finally  took  up  her  residence  in  Cincin- 
nati, the  wreck  of  what  she  was  in  the  days  when  I 
knew  and  admired  her,  and  where,  not  long  since, 
deserted  by  all  her  former  friends,  and  in  poverty,  if 
not  destitution,  she  died.  The  only  person,  as  far 
as  I  can  learn,  who  did  not  desert  her,  but  did  all 
she  could  to  lighten  her  afflictions,  to  soothe  her  last 
moments,' and  to  direct  her  mind  to  the  only  source 
of  help  and  comfort,  was  a  most  estimable  lady,  a 
convert  from  Quakerism  to  Catholicity. 

Poor  Fanny !  I  have  always  regretted  her  fate. 
Her  husband  treated  her,  I  have  undet*stood,  with 
great  unkindness  and  brutality.  And  certain  it  is, 
that  after  her  marriage  her  charm  was  broken,  and 
her  strength  departed  from  her.     Yet  few  who  knew 


METHODS  OF  WOBLD-REFORM. 


95 


her  as  I  did,  when  she  was  about  thirty  years  of  age, 
still  fresh  and  blooming,  with  her  feminine  sweetness 
and  grace,  and  her  masculine  intellect,  however 
they  may  regard  her  principles,  will  fail  to  remember 
her  with  much  personal  kindness.  She  followed  out 
with  logical  consistency  the  principle  of  private 
judgment  in  faith  and  morals ;  and  none  who  recog- 
nize that  principle,  and  deny  all  infallible  teaching, 
have  any  right  to  reproach  her.  She  did  great 
harm,  and  the  morals  of  the  American  people  feel 
even  to-day  the  injury  she  did  them ;  but  she  acted 
according  to  her  lights,  and  was  at  least  no  hypocrite. 
Many  who  condemn  her  have  been  and  are  greater 
sinners  than  she* 


S 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE   WORKFNG    MEN. 


The  great  measure  on  wliich  Fanny  and  her  friends 
relied  for  ultimate  success  was  the  system  of  pub- 
lic schools,  which,  as  I  have  said,  were  to  include  the 
maintenance,  as  well  as  the  instruction  and  education, 
of  all  the  children  of  the  State.  These  schools  were 
intended  to  deprive,  as  well  as  to  relieve,  parents 
of  all  care  and  responsibility  of  their  children  after  a 
year  or  two  years  of  age.  It  was  assumed  that 
parents  were  in  general  incompetent  to  train  up 
their  children  in  the  way  they  should  go,  to  form 
them  with  the  right  sort  of  characters,  tempers,  and 
aims ;  and  therefore  it  was  proposed  that  the  State 
chould  take  the  whole  charge  of  the  children,  provide 
proper  establishments,  and  teachers  and  governors 
for  them,  till  they  should  reach  the  age  of  majority. 
This  would  liberate  the  parents,  and  secure  the 
principal  advantages  of  a  community  of  goods. 

The  aim  was,  on  the  one  hand,  to  relieve  marriage 
of  its  biu*dens,  and  to  remove  the  principal  reasons 
for  making  it  indissoluble ;  and,  on  the  other,  to 
provide  for  bringing  up  all  children  in  a  rational 
manner  to  be  reasonable  men  and  women,  that  is, 
free  from  superstition,  all  belief  in  God  and  i minor- 


TIIK   WOIJKIXO    MKN. 


«r 


iiinnor- 


tality^  or  regard  for  the  invisible,  and  make  them 
look  upon  this  life  as  their  only  life,  this  earth  as 
their  only  home,  and  the  promotion  of  their  earthly 
interests  and  enjoyments  as  their  only  end.  The 
three  great  enemies  to  worldly  happiness  were  held 
to  be  religion,  marriage  or  family,  and  private 
property.  Once  get  rid  of  these  three  institutions, 
and  we  may  hope  soon  to  realize  our  earthly 
paradise.  For  religion  we  were  to  substitute  science, 
that  is,  science  of  the  world  of  the  five  senses  only ; 
for  private  property,  a  community  of  goods ;  and  for 
private  families,  a  community  of  wives.  No,  not  a 
community  of  wives,  for  in  our  new  moral  world 
there  were  to  be  no  wives  or  husbands ;  there  were 
to  be  only  men  and  women,  who  would  be  free  to 
cohabit  together,  according  to  their  mutual  likings, 
and  for  as  long  a  time  as  they  found  it  mutually 
agreeable,  and  no  longer.  Marriage  as  a  sacrament, 
as  a  sacred  thing,  as  a  mystery,  making  of  the  twain 
one  flesh,  was  denied  as  a  superstition,  or  an  inven- 
tion of  the  priests,  to  render  their  own  office  so  much 
the  more  necessary  and  profitable  ]  but  marriage,  as 
the  expression  of  mutual  love  between  a  man  and  a 
woman,  was  to  be  recognized.  Yet,  as  the  end  of 
all  marriage  is  mutual  happiness,  and  as  that  results 
only  from  mutual  love,  it  follows  that  where  the  love 
is  wanting  the  marriage  is  illegitimate,  is  immoral, 
and  should  never  take  place,  or  should  cease. 

The  great  defect  of  this  theory  is  in  the  assump- 
tion that  the  mutual  love  which  is  demanded  by 
marriage  is  not  within  the  power  of  free-will,  and 

UhMVERSITAS  S.  PAUL! 

IIBLIOTHEQUE  -  LWAIY 
233  MAIN,   OHAWA 


98 


THK   CONVERT. 


h 


therefore  docs  not  depend  on  the  parties  themselvcct. 
The  love  promised  in  the  marriage  contract  is  not 
love  as  an  uncontrollable  sentiment,  but  love  as  a 
free^  voluntary  affection, — love  in  the  sense  in  whicli 
we  are  free  to  love  or  not  to  love  as  we  choose, 
Mariiage,  in  the  Christian  sense,  is  certainly  indefen- 
sible, if  we  accept  the  modern  theory  that  la\e  is 
necessary,  fatalj  ijidependent  of  free-will.  Taking 
this  theory,  a  tht>ory  which  follows  logically  from 
Calvinistic  and  iulitlel  |>liili)au|iliy,  and  is  assumed  as 
undeniable  by  ail  our  modern  uovehsts  and  roman- 
cers, the  doctripe  of  Mary  VVolUtonecraft,  Wiljiain 
Opdwin,  the  poet  .^helley,  Hobert  Owen,  Frances 
Wright,  and  the  advocates  of  Free  Love,  is  reason- 
able and  just.  Christian  marriage,  if  that  theory  be 
true,  is  immoral,  because  no  one  has  a  right  to 
promise  to  do  what  it  does  not  depend  on  his  free- 
will to  perform.  Qhristian  marriage  proceeds  on  the 
assumption  that  man,  with  the  grace  of  God,  is  free 
to  love,  and  can,  love,  and  faithfully  perform,  if  he 
chooses,  all  that  is  implied  in  the  marriage  contract. 
But  (Calvinism  and  infidelity  alike  denying  free-will 
in  fact,  even  when  they  do  not,  in  name,  are  obliged 
to  reject  marriage  in  the  Christian  sense,  and,  to  be 
consistent,  should  assert  what  is  called  Free  Love. 

There  is  no  question  that  the  views  of  matrimony 
taken  by  Fanny  Wright  and  her  school  are  abomi- 
nable, but  it  does  not  necessarily  follow  that  they 
were  adopted  from  loose  or  licentious  passions,  or 
from  really  immoral  motives.  They  were  i^nd  are 
justified  by  the  theory  of  love  adopted  by   very 


■'ft 


THE  WOHKINU    MKN. 


9^ 


Bions,  or 


nearly  the  whole  non-Catholic  world.  It  muat  not, 
moreover,  be  assumed  tliat  they  appeared  to  us  iu 
the  gross  and  shocking  light  that  they  do  to  the 
public,  or  even  to  myself  at  the  present  time.  Things 
do  not  always  appear  to  us  at  twenty-six  as  they  do 
at  fifty-four.  We  saw  clearly  enough  that  they  were 
not  views  to  be  carried  injto  practice  in  the  present 
state  of  society,  and  we  proposed  them  to  be  adopted 
only  by  a  future  generation,  trained  and  prepared  in 
our  system  of  schools  founded  and  sustained  by  the 
public,  to  adopt  without  abusing  them.  Tn  our 
minds,  the  wonder-working  effects  of  these  schools 
were  to  precede  their  practical  realization. 

Our  illusion,  after  our  misapprehension  of  tho 
nature  of  the  love  promisecl  in  marriage,  was  the 
undue  estimate  we  placed  on  education.  Our  theory 
was,  that  the  child  is  passive  in  the  hands  of  the 
educator,  and  may  be  moulded  as  clay  in  the  hands 
of  the  potter.  Yet,  in  this  we  did  but  follow  the 
popular  philosophy  of  Locke  and  Oondillac,  and  draw 
the  conclusions  warranted  Hi>y  the  premises  supplied 
us  by  the  age  and  country.  T«he  sensism  of  Locke 
and  the  utilitarian  morals  of  Paley  were  then  taught 
in  nearly  all  our  colleges  and  universities.  Most  of 
the  generation  to  which  I  belong  have  been  brought 
up  to  believe  that  the  mind  has  no  inherent  character, 
and  is  in  the  beginning  a  mere  iabula  ratsaj  a  blank 
sheet,  with  simply  the  ci^acity  of  receiving  the 
characters  which  may  be  written  on  it.  It  is  only 
recently  that  Locke  and  Paley  baii(e  been  dethroned 
in  our  universities,  and  .they  aae  not  ye|  expelled 


t 


100 


TUB  CONVERl. 


li 


from  our  popular  literature.  Thirty  years  ago  the 
whole  non-Catholic  world  believed  in  the  power  of 
education  to  redeem  society^  and  to  secure  the  reign 
of  truth  and  justice ;  and  that  belief  has  still  many  a 
•talworth  champion,  not  precisely  of  the  Fanny- 
Wright  school. 

Be  all  this  as  it  may,  our  dependence  was  placed 
on  education  in  a  system  of  public  schools  managed 
after  a  plan  of  our  own,  or  rather  of  William  Phique- 
pal,  a  Frenchman,  subsequently  the  husband  of 
Fanny  Wright,  and  who  I  see  has  not  long  since 
been  cast  in  a  suit  for  damages  for  the  neglect  and 
abuse  of  some  of  the  pu{$ils  he  brought  with  him  from 
France  to  this  country,  and  whom  he  pretended  to 
educate.  I  know  something  of  his  mode  of  managing 
with  these  boys ;  I  knew  it  from  his  own  lips,  and 
him  I  never  trusted.  But  the  more  immediate  work 
was  to  g^t  our  system  of  schools  adopted.  To  this 
end  it  was  proposed  to  organize  the  whole  Union 
secretly,  very  much  on  the  plan  of  the  Carbonari  of 
Europe,  of  whom  at  that  time  I  knew  nothing.  The 
members  of  this  secret  society  were  to  avail  them- 
selves of  all  the  means  in  their  power,  each  in  his 
own  locality,  to  form  public  opinion  in  favor  of 
education  by  the  State  at  the  public  expense,  and  to 
get  such  men  elected  to  the  legislatures  as  would  be 
likely  to  favor  our  purposes.  How  far  the  secret 
organization  extended,  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  do  know 
that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  State  of  New  York 
was  organized,  tor  I  was  myself  one  of  the  agents 
for  organizing  it.     I,  however,  became  tired  of  the 


THE  WOBKINO   MEN. 


101 


work,  and  abandoned  it  after  a  few  months. 
Whether  the  organization  still  exists,  or  whether  it 
liiis  ever  exerted  any  influence  or  not,  is  more  than 
i  am  able  to  say,  or  have  taken  the  pains  to 
ascertain.  ;  .  . 

Our  next  step,  and  in  connection  with  this,  was 
the  formation  of  wliat  was  known  as  the  Working; 
Mt'i^s  Party,  started  in  Philadelphia  in  1828,  and  iu 
N«'W  York  in  the  year  following.  This  party  was 
ilcvisod  and  started  principally  by  Robert  Dale 
Owen,  Robert  L.  Jennings,  George  H.  £vans,  and  a 
few  others,  without  exception  Europeans  by  birth* 
Tiie  purpose  in  the  formation  of  this  party  was  to 
got  control  of  the  political  power  of  the  State,  so  as 
to  be  able  to  use  it  for  establishing  our  system  of 
schools.  We  hoped,  by  linking  our  cause  with  the 
ultra-democratic  sentiment  of  the  country,  which 
had  had,  from  the  time  of  Jefferson  and  Tom  Paine^ 
something  of  an  anti-Christian  character;  by  profess- 
ing ourselves  the  bold  and  uncompromising  cham- 
pions of  equality,  by  expressing  a  great  love  for  the 
people,  and  a  deep  sympathy  with  the  laborer,  whom 
we  represented  as  defrauded  and  oppressed  by  his 
employer,  by  denouncing  all  proprietors  as  aristo- 
crats, and  by  keeping  the  more  unpopular  features 
of  our  plan  as  far  in  the  background  as  possible,  to 
enlist  the  majority  of  the  American  people  under  the 
Itajiiier  of  the  Working  Men's  Party ;  nothing 
bting  that,  if  we  could  once  raise  that  party  to 

wer,  we  could  use  it  to  secure  the  adoption  of  our 
ducational  system. 


-  V 


•  on 


(I 


lOJ 


THE  COXVRUT. 


;  I 


!l 


Into  this  party  I  entered  with  enthusiasm.  I 
cettablished  in  Western  New  York  a  journal  in  its 
sapport,  and  cooperated  with  The  Daihj  Sentinel^ 
conducted  by  my  friends  in  the  city.  But  I  soon 
tired  of  the  party^  and  gave  my  influence  and  that 
of  my  journal,  in  the  autumn  of  1880,  to  the  Jackson 
candidate,  £.  T.  Throop,  against  Frank  Granger, 
the  candidate  of  the  Anti-masons,  for  Governor. 
This  defection  ruined  my  journal  as  a  party  journal, 
and  a  few  days  after  the  election,  I  disposed  of  it  to 
my  partner,  and  ceased  to  be  its  editon  The  truth 
is,  I  never  was  and  never  could  be  a  party  man,  or 
work  in  the  traces  of  a  party.  I  abandoned,  indeed, 
after  a  year*s  devotion  to  it,  the  Working  Men's 
Party,  but  not  the  working-men^s  cause-,  and  to  that 
cause  I  have  ever  been  faithful  accofdiitg  tt)  my 
light  and  ability. 

I  was  not  naturally  a  radical,  or  even  inclined  to 
radicalism;  but  I  had  a  deep  sympathy  with  the 
poorer  and  more  numerous  classes.  This  sympathy 
I  still  have,  and  trust  I  shall  have  as  long  as  I  live. 
I  believed,  and  still  believe,  that  the  rights  of  labor 
are  not  sufficiently  protected,  and  that  the  modem 
system  of  large  industries,  which  requires  for  its 
proaecution  heavy  outlays  of  capital,  or  credit, 
makes  the  great  mass  of  operatives  virtually  slaves, — 
slaves,  in  all  except  the  name,  as  much  so  as  are  the 
negroes  on  one  of  our  Southern  plantations.  It  is  a 
system  which  places  thd  laborer  under  all  the  disad- 
vantages, without  securing  him  the  advantages,  of 
reedom.     I  looked,  and  still  look,  upon  dcinocrncy, 


THK  WDKKINO   MEN'. 


103 


as  it  is  called)  wliich  tias  its  expression  in  universal 
suffrage  and  eligibility ,  as  affonJing  no  adequate  pro- 
tection to  the  laboring  classes,  as  in  fact  no  better 
than  a  mockery.  The  Brittith  system,  the  mercan- 
tile system,  the  credit  system,  the  banking  system, 
the  system  which  gives  the  supremacy  to  trade  and 
manufactures,  ina^igurated  by  the  Peace  of  Utrecht 
in  1713, 1  regarded,  and  still  regard,  as  worse  than 
the  serfdom  of  the  middle  ages,  and  worse  even  than 
slavery  as  it  has  existed  or  can  exist  in  any  Christian 
country.  It  cannot  last  forever ;  but  it  is  too  power- 
ful to  be  successfully  combated  at  present.  The 
industrial  and  conmiercial  supremacy  of  Great 
Britain  must  be  annihilated  before  we  can  get  rid  of 
it,  and  that  supremacy  is  not  easily  shaken;  for  Russia 
is  the  only  modern  nation  that  is  in  a  condition  to 
offer  it  the  slightest  resistance,  and  Russia  is  pre- 
paring to  adopt  it. 

My  few  months'  experience  as  the  editor  of  a 
working-man's  journal  satisfied  me  that  it  was  idle 
to  attempt  to  carry  out  our  plans  by  means  of  a 
working-man's  party,  or,  so  to  speak,  a  proletarian 
)  arty.  The  working-men,  except  in  the  cities  and 
manufacturing  villages,  do  not,  in  our  own  country, 
constitute,  as  a  distinct  class,  the  majority.  They 
are  neither  numerous  nor  strong  enough  to  get  or  to 
wield  the  political  power  of  the  State.  They  can- 
not afford  to  engage  ih  the  struggle  to  obtain  it 
Capital  or  credit,  in  its  various  forniis  and  ramifica- 
tions, is  too  strong  foi*  them.  The  movement  we 
comiheiiced  could  oiily  excite  a  war  of  man  against 


• 


i    » 


104 


THK   CONVEKT. 


money ;  and  all  history  and  all  reasoning  in  the  case 
prove  that  in  such  a  war  money  carries  it  over  man. 
Money  commands  the  supplies,  and  can  hold  out 
longer  than  they  who  have  nothing  but  their  man- 
hood. It  can  starve  them  into  submission.  I  wished 
sincerely  and  earnestly  to  benefit  the  working-men , 
but  I  saw,  as  soon  as  I  directed  my  attention  to  the 
point,  that  I  could  effect  nothing  by  appealing  to 
them  as  a  separate  class.  My  policy  must  be,  not  a 
working-men's  party,  but  to  induce  all  classes  of 
society  to  cooperate  in  efforts  for  the  working-men's 
cause.  The  rich  and  poor,  the  learned  and  un* 
learned,  the  producers  and  consumers,  the  head 
workers  and  the  handworkers,  must  unite,  work 
together,  or  no  reforms  were  practicable,  no  amelio- 
ration of  the  condition  of  any  class  was  to  be  hoped  for. 
No  doubt  I  was  for  a  moment  fascinated  by  the 
visionary  schemes  of  my  friends,  but  my  motive  for 
supporting  the  Working  Men's  Party  was  never 
precisely  theirs.  I  did  not  do  it  merely  for  the  sake 
of  the  proposed  system  of  education,  but  wich  the 
hope  of  benefiting  the  working-men  themselves.  I 
acquiesced  in  that  system  of  education  for  a  moment, 
but  never  really  approved  it.  I  was  a  husband  and 
a  father,  and  did  not  altogether  relish  the  idea  of 
breaking  up  the  family,  and  regarding  my  children 
as  belonging  to  the  State  rather  tlian  to  me.  Parents 
might  not  be  in  all  cases  well  qualified  to  bring  up 
their  children  properly,  but  where  was  the  State  to 
j;et  its  army  of  nurses,  teachers,  governors,  etc., 
better   qualified  f     What  certainty   was  there  that 


THE  WORKING  MEN. 


105 


these  public  schools  would  be  better  conducted,  or  be 
more  favorable  to  the  morals  and  intelligence  of 
children,  than  the  family  itself?  After  all,  what 
could  these  schools  do  for  our  children?  They 
would  bring  them  up  to  be  rational,  it  was  said; 
that  is,  free  from  superstition,  free  from  all  religious 
prejudices,  ignorant  of  all  morality  resting  for  its 
foundation  on  belief  in  Qod,  in  immortality,  in  moral 
accountability,  and  restricted  in  all  their  thoughts 
and  affections  to  their  five  senses  and  the  material 
world,  therefore,  to  purely  material  goods  and  sen- 
sual pleaaures.  Suppose  the  schools  to  fulfil  these 
expectations,  they  will  turn  out  our  children  only 
well-trained  animals — a  sort  of  learned  pigs.  After 
all,  is  this  desirable  T 

I  cannot  carry  out  my  reforms  without  love,  dis- 
interestedness, sacrifice.  If  man  is  a  mere  animal, 
born  to  propagate  his  species,  and  to  die  and  bo  no 
more,  why  shall  I  love  him,  and  sacrifice  myself 
for  him  I  Where  is  his  moral  worth,  his  dignity, 
the  greatness  and  majesty  of  his  nature  f  What 
matters  it,  whether,  during  his  existence  of  a  day,  he 
is  happy  or  miserable,  since  to-morrow  he  dies,  and 
it  is  all  the  same  f  For  a  being  so  worthless,  where- 
fore devote  myself  t  What  is  there  in  him  to  inspire 
me  with  heroism,  and  enable  me  in  his  behalf  to 
dare  poverty,  reproach,  exile,  the  rack,  the  dungeon, 
the  scaffold,  or  the  stake  t 

No  longer  irritated  against  religion  by  being 
obliged  by  my  profession  to  seem  to  profess  what  I 
did  not   believe,  I   found   myself  almost    instantly 


106 


TUR  CONVERt. 


revertiiig  with  regret  to  nfj  early  reli^iotis  pririciptes 
and  aBattUukB,  The  raoment  I  ayowetilj  threw  off 
all  rel^fiofi  add  began  to  wol'k  without  it,  I  fonnd 
myself  impotent.  I  did  not  need  religion  to  pull 
down  or  destroy  soeietj ;  but  the  inoment  I  Wishdd 
to  build  upr  to  effeet  something  positive^  I  found  I 
could  ndt  proceed  a  single  step  without  it.  I  was 
compelled  to  make  brick  without  straw.  Philo- 
sophers bad  told  me,  and  I  had  believed,  that  self- 
interest  would  suffice  as  a  motive  power,  that  all 
one  has  to  do  is  to  show  men  what  is  really  for  their 
interdst^  and  they  will  do  it.  Nothing  more  false. 
Men  are  selfish  enough,  no  doubt  of  that }  but  nothing 
in  the  world  is  harder  than  to  get  them  to  labor  for 
their  own  best  interest.  They  act  from  habit,  from 
routine^  from  appetite  «nd  passion,  and  will  sacrifice 
their  highest  and  best  good  to  their  momentary  lusts. 
It  is  an  old  complaint,  that  men  do  not  act  as  well 
as  they  know.  They  see  the  right,  approve  it,  and 
yet  pursue  the  wrong.  It  is  not  enough  to  show 
them  their  interest,  to  convince  their  understandings. 
I  must  have  some  power  by  which  I  can  overcome 
what  religious  people  call  the.  flesh, — -a  power  which 
wiU  strengtben  the  willy  and  enable  men'  to  subdue 
their  passioofl  and  control-  their  lusts;  Where  am  I 
to  find  tluB  power  except  hi  religious  ideas  and 
prin<^ples9.  la  the  belief  m  God  and  immortality,  in 
duty,  moral  accountability  f 

1  need,  theii,  religion  of  some  sort  as  the  agent  to 
induce  men  to  make  the  sacrifices  required  in  the 
Adoption  of  my  plans  for  working  out  the  reform  of 


THE   WORKING   MEN. 


10? 


society,  and  securing  to  man  his  earthly  felicity. 
Certainly,  I  was  far  enough  from  the  Christian 
thought }  but  this  conviction,  real  and  sincere,  was  a 
step  in  my  ascent  from  the  abyss  into  which  I  had 
fallen.  Certainly,  it  does  not  follow  that  religion  is 
true  because  it  is  needed  to  secure  man  his ,  earthly 
well-being;  but  the  conviction  that  it  is  necessary 
for  that  purpose,  if  not  rudely  treated,  may,  in  an 
ingenuous  mind,  lead  to  sotnething  more.  I  had 
fixed  it  in  my  mind  that  the  creation  of  an  earthly 
paradise,  a  heaven  on  earth  for  my  race,  was  the 
en  i  for  which  I  sldould  labor ;  and  I  saw  that  I  could 
not  gain  that  end  without  the  agency  of  religion. 
Therefore  I  accepted  feligion  once  more,  and,  on 
quitting  my  journal,  r^sum^d  my  old  profession  of  a 
preacher,  though  of  what  particular  Gospel  it  would 
be  diflcult  to  say. 


CHAPTER  Vm. 


RELIGION   OF  HUMANITY. 


I  BE8UM ED  preaching,  but  on  my  own  hook,  as  an 
independent  preacher,  responsible  to  no  church,  sect, 
or  denomination.  Do  you  say  I  was  wrong,  that  I 
acted  precipitately,  and  should  have  waited  till  my 
beard  had  grown!  Perhaps  you  are  right.  But 
perhaps  I  was  not  in  a  condition  in  which  I  could 
wait.  A  man  may  often  be  placed  in  a  situation  in 
which  he  must  act,  although  perfectly  aware  that  to 
act  is  premature.  I  was  still  young,  only  just  enter- 
ing my  twenty-eighth  year,  and  knew  perfectly  well 
that  I  had  made  no  thorough  examination  of  the 
great  questions  which  had  been  raised  in  my  mind ; 
but  I  must  do  something,  not  indeed  what  I  would, 
but  what  I  could.  The  question  with  me  was  simply, 
what  in  my  condition  was  practicable,  and  whether 
what  to  me  was  practicable  was  honest,  such  as 
involved  the  violation  of  no  principle  of  natural 
morality.  Satisfied  on  this  point,  I  could  resume 
my  profession  with  a  good  conscience,  provided  I 
pretended  to  believe  no  more  than  I  really  did  be- 
lieve, and  did  not  attempt  to  dogmatize  in  matters 
of  opinion,  or  give  myself  out  for  what  I  was  not. 
"But  you  ran  without  being  sent."     Certainly  I 


RKUOION    OK   HUMANITY. 


109 


did ;  but  that  was  my  privilege  aa  a  Protestant  f  No 
Protestant  had  or  has  a  right  to  upbraid  me,  for  all 
Protestant  ministers  run  without  being  sent.  None 
of  them  have  received^  in  the  ecclesiastical  sense,  a 
mission.  I  stood  on  the  same  footing  with  Ltither, 
Calvin,  and  all  the  Reformers.  They  were  all 
preachers  on  their  own  hook,  self-commissioned  min- 
isters. 1  could  be  no  more  bound  by  them  than  they 
were  by  the  Pope ;  or  by  any  Protestant  sect,  than 
that  sect  itself  was  bound  by  the  Catholic  Church, 
from  which  it  had  separated. 

Do  you  allege  that  my  creed  was  unorthodox  f 
What  standard  of  orthodoxy  had  I  as  a  Protestant  T 
The  Bible  ?  The  Bible  as  each  one  understands  it 
for  himself,  or  as  it  is  interpreted  by  a  divinely- 
commissioned  authority  t  The  essence  of  Protestant- 
ism is,  in  denying  all  such  authority,  and  in  asserting 
the  right  of  private  interpretation.  On  Protestant 
principles,  orthodoxy  is  my  doxy,  heterodoxy  is 
your  doxy.  For  the  Protestant,  each  man^s  private 
judgment  is  the  only  admissible  standard  of  ortho- 
doxy. Leave  me  then  to  follow  what  seems  right  in 
my  own  eyes,  or  else  go  back  yourselves  to  Mother 
Church  ;  prove  to  me  that  your  private  judgment 
is  more  worthy  to  be  followed  than  mine,  before  you 
arraign  me  as  heterodox  because  I  do  not  follow  it. 
You  differ  from  me  as  much  as  I  do  from  you ;  and 
why  is  it  heterodoxy  for  me  to  differ  from  you,  any 
more  than  it  is  for  you  to  differ  from  me  f 

My  creed,  no  doubt,  was  very  short,  but  no 
Protestant  had  any  right  to  snub  me  because  it  was 


no 


THE   CONVERT. 


not  longer.  In  resuming  my  profession,  I  acted  as 
a  consistent  Protestant ;  and  as  I  had  already  been 
set  apart  to  the  work  of  the  ministry  by  the  laying 
on  of  the  hands  of  a  Protestant  presbytery,  I  stood 
as  legitimately  in  the  pulpit  as  any  Protestant  min- 
ister does  or  can.  So  far,  I  was  irrepiroachable  on 
Protestant  principles.  I  will  say  this  much  for  my- 
self, that  never  did  I,  after  reascending  the  pulpit, 
profess  to  be  what  I  was  not.  I  never  claimed  to 
be  an  authorized  preacher,  or  to  have  authority  to 
dogmatize  on  any  subject.  I  never  pretended  to 
be  a  doctor.  I  professed  to  be  only  an  humble 
inquirer  after  truth ;  and  all  I  professed  to  do  was  to 
stimulate  my  hearers  also  to  inquire  after  it-  for 
themselves.  I  warned  them  that  I  was  a  fallible 
man,  and  that  they  must  believe  nothing,  simply 
because  I  believed  or  asserted  it.  There  is,  my 
brethren,  I  ^  said  to  them,  more  truth  than  we  have 
yet  found.  Even  what  truth  we  really  do  hold,  may 
be  modified  as  we  discover  more  truth.  As  yet  we 
are  learners  and  inquirers;  and  we  must  inquire 
earnestly  for  the  truth,  and  hold  oulrselves  ready  to 
embrace  it,  let  it  come  in  what  shape  it  may,  and 
follow  it,  let  it  lead  whithersoever  it  will. 

I  have  never  reproached  myself  for  the  position  1 
assumed  after  my  connection  with  Fiinny-Wrightism. 
I  followed  the  best  light  I  had,  honestly,  sincerely 
unflinchingly.  God  gave  me  this  grace,  and  iie 
finally  led  me,  without  my  foreseeing  whither  he  was 
leading  me,  into  the  bosom  of  his  Church.  Yet  when 
I  recommenced  preaching,  I  had  hardly  the  simplest 


RELIOION   OF   HCMAXITY. 


Ill 


elements  of  natural  religion.  My  great  aim  was^  not 
to  serre  God,  but  to  serve  man ;  tlie  love  of  my  race, 
not  the  love  of  my  Maker,  moved  me.  I  was  still 
bent  on  social  reform,  and  regarded  religion  and  all 
things  else  solely  in  relation  to  that  end.  I  found  in 
iiio  certain  religious  sentiments  that  I  could  not  ef- 
face }  certain  religious  beliefs  or  tendencies,  of  which 
1  could  not  divest  myself.  I  regarded  them  as  a  law 
of  my  ntaure,  as  natural  to  man,  as  the  noblest  part 
of  our  nature,  and  as  such  I  cherished  them  ]  but  as 
the  expression  in  me  of  an  objective  world,  I  seldom 
pondered  them.  I  found  them  universal,  manifesting 
themselves,  in  some  form,  wherever  man  is  found ; 
but  I  received  them,  or  supposed  I  received  them, 
on  the  authority  of  humanity  or  human  nature,  and 
professed  to  hold  no  religion  except  that  of  hu- 
manity. I  had  become  a  believer  in  humanity,  and 
put  humanity  in  the  place  of  God.  The  only  God 
I  recognized  was  the  Divine  in  man,  the  divinity  of 
humanity,  one  alike  with  God  and  with  man,  which 
I  supposed  to  be  the  real  meaning  of  the  Christian 
doctrine  of  the  Incarnation,  the  mystery  of  Emmanuel, 
or  God  with  us, — God  manifest  in  the  flesh.  There 
may  be  an  unmanifested  God,  and  certainly  is ;  but 
the  only  God  who  exists  for  us  is  the  God  in  man, 
the  active  and  living  principle  of  human  nature. 

I  regarded  Jesus  Christ  as  divine  in  the  sense  in 
which  all  men  are  divine,  and  human  in  the  sense  in 
which  all  men  are  human.  I  took  him  as  my  model 
man,  and  regarded  him  as  a  moral  and  social  re- 
former, who  sought,  by  teaching  the  truth  under  a 


112 


THE  CONVERT. 


religious  envelope,  and  practising  the  highest  and 
purest  morality,  to  meliorate  the  earthly  condition  of 
mankind ;  but  I  saw  nothing  miraculous  in  his  con- 
ception or  birth,  nothing  supernatural  in  his  person 
and  character,  in  his  life  or  his  doctrine.  He  came 
to  redeem  the  world,  as  does  every  great  and  good 
man,  and  deserved  to  be  held  in  universal  honor  and 
esteem  as  one  who  remained  firm  to  the  truth  amid 
every  trial,  and  finally  died  on  the  cross,  a  martyr  to 
his  love  of  mankind.  As  a  social  reformer,  as  one 
devoted  to  the  progress  and  well-being  of  man  in 
this  world,  I  thought  I  might  liken  myself  to  him, 
and  call  myself  by  his  name.  I  called  myself  a 
Christian,  not  because  I  took  him  for  my  master,  not 
because  I  believed  all  he  believed  or  taught,  but  be- 
cause, like  him,  I  was  laboring  to  introduce  a  new 
order  of  things,  and  to  promote  the  happiness  of  my 
kind.  I  used  the  Bible  as  a  good  Protestant,  took 
what  could  be  accommodated  to  my  purpose,  and 
passed  over  the  rest,  as  belonging  to  an  age  now 
happily  outgrown.  I  followed  the  example  of  tha 
carnal  Jews,  and  gave  an  earthly  sense  to  all  the 
promises  and  prophecies  of  the  Messias,  and  looked 
for  my  reward  in  this  world. 

For  several  months  I  went  on  preaching,  very 
much  as  I  had  lectured  during  the  time  of  my  avowed 
unbelief.  Very  little  was  changed  except  my  tone 
and  temper.  I  was  willing  to  agree  with  the  Christian 
world  as  far  as  I  could,  and  no  longer  wished  to  fight 
it.  But  I  found  myself  gradually,  1  hardly  know 
how  or  wherefore,  cherishing  views  and  feelings  more 


UKIJGION   OF   IH'MAXITY. 


113 


and  more  in  accordance,  I  will  not  say  with  Chris- 
tianity, but  with  natural  religion.  I  began  to  ap- 
proximate to  a  belief  in  Qod  as  a  creator  and  moral 
governor,  not  so  much  from  any  reasoning  on  the 
subject,  as  from  the  silent  operations  of  my  natural 
religious  sentiments.  I  fell  in  with  a  sermon  by  the 
celebrated  Dr.  Channing  on  the  Dignity  of  Human 
Nature.  Its  eloquence,  its  noble  sentiments,  and  its 
elevated  thoughts,  affected  me  powerfully,  and  made 
me  almost  a  worshipper  of  man.  It  made  me  think 
so  highly  of  man,  of  his  deathless  energies  and  glo- 
rious affinities,  that  I  felt  contented  to  believe  that 
his  soul  could  not  die,  but  must  live  forever.  I  saw 
in  man,  more  clearly  and  more  vividly  than  I  had  be- 
fore, something  worth  living  for,  something  one  could 
love,  and,  if  need  be,  die  for ;  I  found  myself  alnmst 
instantly  abandoning  my  old  doctrine  of  interested 
for  disinterested  affection.  There  was  something 
higher  and  nobler  in  man  than  I  had  hitherto 
admitted ;  something  which  could  serve  as  a  basis  to 
that  love  of  mankind  necessary  as  the  agent  for 
introducing  the  social  changes  and  organizations 
through  which  I  hoped  to  obtain  my  earthly  paradise. 
Dr.  Channing's  writings  drew  my  attention  to 
the  Unitarians,  a  denomination  with  which  I  had 
previously  had  no  acquaintance.  I  found  that  they 
were  liberal,  that  they  eschewed  all  creeds  and  con- 
fessions, allowed  the  unrestrained  exercise  of  reason, 
and  left  their  ministers  each  to  stand  on  his  own 
private  convictions,  and  to  arrange  matters  each  us 
best  he  could  with  his  own  congregation.     The  fc 


kn 


114 


TUE   CONVERT. 


i'i 


members  I  met  were  educated;  cultivated^  intelligenti 
respectable,  and  I  felt  that  among  them  I  should  find 
my  home,  and  my  natural  associates.  I  offered  my- 
self to  a  Unitarian  congregation  in  the  summer  of' 
1S32,  and  was  accepted  and  settled  as  their  minis- 
ter. Then,  almost  for  the  first  time,  I  began  to  study 
philosophy  and  theology  with  a  little  method  and 
earnestness.  I  was  thrown  into  a  society  new  to  me, 
and  had  access  to  a  whole  literature  to  which  I  had 
hitherto  been  a  stranger.  I  learned  French  and  a 
little  German,  and  began  the  study  of  the  rational- 
istic literatures  of  France  and  Germany,  more  espe- 
cially of  France.  A  new  world,  or  rather  many  new 
worlds,  seemed  to  open  to  me,  and  I  almost  forgot  my 
socialistic  dreams. 

The  first  work  I  read  in  French,  and  which  held 
me  enchained  quite  too  long,  was  a  work,  forgotten 
now,  of  Benjamin  Constant  on  Religion,  considered  in 
its  Origin,  its  Forms,  and  its  Developments.  It 
chimed  in  with  my  modes  of  thinking  at  the  time, 
and  seemed  to  be  just  the  book  I  wanted  to  enable 
me  to  clear  up,  develop,  systematize,  and  confirm 
with  the  requisite  historical  proofs  my  own  convic- 
tions. Benjamin  Constant  is  a  historical  character. 
He  was  born  in  Switzerland  of  a  French  Huguenot 
family,  and  educated  in  Geneva,  Scotland,  and  Ger- 
many. He  was  recognized  as  a  French  citizen  under 
the  Directory,  and  for  several  years  played  a  prom- 
inent part  as  a  French  politician.  Accompanying 
Aladame  Sta^l  when  the  First  Consul  exiled  her  from 
Paris,  travelling  with  her  in  Italy,  Germany,  aid 


ni.MlilcX    UF    lirMAMTY. 


11.") 


England)  and  residing  with  her  for  some  time  at 
Coppet,  he  devoted  himself  to  literature,  till  the  fall 
of  Napoleon  in  1814.  He  was  admitted  to  the 
council  of  the  emperor  during  the  Hundred  Days, 
and  after  the  second  Restoration,  became  a  distin- 
guished member  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  on  the 
Liberal  side,  and  took  an  active  part  in  French 
politics  till  his  death  in  1830. 

Benjamin  Constant  had  been  brought  up  a  Pro- 
testant, and  became,  like  so  many  others  of  his  gen- 
eration, an  unbeliever  in  revelation,  perhaps  even 
in  God,  and  is  said  not  to  have  lived  a  very  edifying 
life.  He  commenced  his  work  with  the  intention  of 
directing  it  against  religion  ;  but  he  was  forced  by 
his  inquiries  and  discoveries  to  write,  as  he  believed, 
in  its  favor.  His  theory,  not  peculiar  to  himself, 
and  held  by  men  far  profounder  and  more  erudite 
than  he,  is,  that  religion  has  its  origin  in  a  sentiment 
natural  to  man,  which  may  be  termed  a  law  of  his 
nature.  This  sentiment  is  vague  and  not  easily 
defined^  It  is  that  in  man  which  places  him  in 
relation  with  the  unseen,  makes  him  tremble  before 
the  invisible  with  fear,  or  thrill  with  delight,  and 
leads  him  to  open  some  means  of  communication 
with  supernal  powers. 

Tliis  sentiment  is  universal,  an  instinct,  or,  it  may 
be,  a  mysterious  revelation  made  by  the  Invisible  to 
the  heart  of  man,  which  finds  its  natural  expression 
in  the  act  of  worship.  But,  blind  in  itself,  the  object 
worshipped  will  be  proportioned  to  the  degree  of 
intellectual  light  possessed  by  the  worshipper.     The 


116 


THE  OONVEBT 


i( 


form  depends  on  the  intelligenoei  and  the  sentiment 
adapts  itself  to  any  form  from  the  lowest  African 
Fetichism  to  the  highest  and  purest  Jewish  and  Chris- 
tian Monotheism.  The  sentiment  itself  is  always 
the  same,  as  unalterable  and  permanent  as  the 
nature  of  man,  but  its  forms  are  variable  and  transi- 
tory. Man  embodies  in  them  his  ideas  or  conceptions 
of  the  true,  the  just,  the  holy ;  but,  as  these  ideas 
are  progressive,  he  is  obliged  with  each  step  in  their 
progress  to  break  his  old  forms  become  too  strait  foi 
him,  and  to  create  new  and  broader  forms,  more  in 
harmony  with  his  advancing  intelligence.  Men 
began,  in  the  lowest  forms  of  Fetichism,  with  the 
worship  of  wood)  stones,  animals,  four-footed  beasts, 
and  creeping  things.  From  Fetichism  they  advanced 
in  process  of  time  to  the  worship  of  the  sun,  moon, 
and  stars,  or  the  hosts  of  heaven,  and  the  elements 
of  nature*  At  first  man  worships  the  outward, 
visible  object  itself)  but  gradually  refining  on  the 
object,  and  rising  to  metaphysical  conceptions,  he 
talses  it  simply  as  a  symbol  of  the  invisible,  and 
worships  no  longer  the  bull,  but  the  spirit  or  manitou 
of  the  bull — no  longer  the  sun,  but  the  spirit  of  the 
sun.  In  this  way  he  rises  from  Sabianism  to 
Oriental,  Egyptian,  and  Persian  symbolism,  and  to 
the  polished  and  graceful  forms  of  Greek  and  Roman 
Polytheism.  Refining  and  philosophizing  still  more 
on  his  ideas  and  the  phenomena  of  nature,  he 
ascends  to  the  Jewish,  and  from  the  Jewish  to  the 
Christian  Monotheism. 

Man's  natural  tendency  is  to  'embody  his  ideas 


KKMtJI    \    Ol'    HIMAXITV. 


117 


and  sentiments  in  Hxed  forms  or  institutions.  He 
wishes  to  tind  to-day  the  friends  of  yesterday.  He 
dreads  change,  and  would  render  his  acquisitions 
permanent  and  unchangeable.  .  The  jugglers,  after- 
wards developed  into  a  priesthood,  tako  advantage 
of  this,  and  labor  to  keep  the  forms  of  religion  fixed 
and  stationary,  and  to  prevent  all  religious  progress, 
all  growth  or  expansion  of  religious  ideas.  This  is 
especially  the  case  in  the  East,  where  the  sacerdotal 
religions  obtain  and  give  to  society  a  theocratic 
organization  and  government.  Originally  the  sacer- 
doial  religions  obtained  even  in  Greece  and  Rome, 
but  gradually  the  warrior  caste  emancipated  them- 
selves from  the  sacerdotal,  established  civil  govern- 
ments proper,  and  obtained  for  religion  the  freedom 
to  follow  the  natural  progress  and  development  of 
the  nation.  There  is  a  great  progress  in  the  moral 
and  religious  ideas  of  the  Odyssey  on  those  of  the 
Iliad,  and  hence  the  two  poems  could  never  have 
been  composed  by  one  and  the  same  man.  The 
Roman  Polytheism,  again,  is  far  in  advance  of  the 
Grecian.  Indeed  Christianity  is  only  one  step  in 
advance  of  Roman  Polytheism, — a  step  to  which  the 
liuman  mind  naturally  tended. 

Each  new  form  or  institution  of  religion  is  not 
only  an  advance  on  its  predecessor,  but  is  the  step- 
ping-stone to  newer  and  still  greater  progress.  Each 
in  turn  is  outgrown,  ceases  to  be  in  harmony  with 
tlie  wants  and  intelligence  of  the  age  or  country  j 
and  when  it  becomes  so,  men  begin  to  criticize  it, 
to  point  out  its  defects,  its  inconsistencies,  and  to 


118 


THE  CONVERT. 


1  ^^!- 


break  away  from  it.  Do  not  be  alarmed.  These 
critical  periods  in  history  are  no  doubt  terrible,  such 
as  one  dreads  to  live  in,  but  they  are  essential  to  the 
•  progress  of  man  and  society.  People  think  religion 
is  about  to  desert  them,  and  they  look  upon  the  ad- 
vanced minds  longing  for  something  purer,  higlier, 
truer,  and  broader,  as  their  enemies,  as  the  enemies 
of  the  gods,  as  infidels,  blasphemers^  and  condemn 
them  to  drink  hemlock,  or  to  be  crucified  between 
two  thieves.  Such  periods  of  criticism,  of  destruc- 
tion of  old  forms,  have  occurred  several  times  in  the 
history  of  the  human  race.  We  meet  one  in  Greece 
commenced  by  Socrates  and  continued  by  Plato; 
another  which  prepared  the  way  for  the  introduction 
and  establishment  of  the  Christian  Church;  another 
which  commenced  in  the  sixteenth  century  of  our 
era,  when  Catholicity  had  ceased  to  be  in  harmony 
with  the  wants  and  intelligence  of  the  age,  and 
which  still  continues.  These  periods  of  destruction 
and  transition  mark,  not  the  decline  of  civilization, 
but  its  advance;  and  so  far  from  being  hostile  to  re- 
ligion, they  invariably  prepare  for  it  a  more  glorious 
future. 

This  theory  of  the  progress  of  religion  corre- 
sponded with  my  theory  of  the  progress  of  mankind, 
and  had  for  me  many  charms.  I  was  prepared  in 
advance  to  accept  it,  and  did  not  at  the  time  think 
of  inquiring  ;vhether  it  really  had  any  historical 
basis  or  not.  No  doubt  had  as  yet  arisen  in  my 
mind  as  to  the  truth  of  the  doctrine  of  progress.  A 
slight  knowledge  of  history,  as  well  as  of  philosophy, 


RELIGION   OF    HUMANITY. 


lis 


suffices  to  refute  Benjamin  Constant's  theory.  Truth 
is  older  than  error,  and  Monotheism — the  belief  and 
worship  of  one  only  God — is  older  than  Polytheism, 
older  than  Fctichism,  and  is,  in  fact,  the  earliest 
form  of  religion  recorded  in  history.  But  the  truth 
or  falsity  of  the  theory  under  this  relation  was  not 
tlio  point  which  struck  me  with  the  most  force. 
That  was  not  the  problem  which  I  was  interested  at 
tlie  time  in  solving.  The  point  in  the  theory  which 
struck  my  attention,  and  influenced  my  studies  and 
action,  was  the  fact  alleged,  that  man  naturally 
seeks  to  embody  his  religious  ideas  and  sentiments 
in  institutions,  and  that  these  institutions  serve  as 
instruments  of  progress.  What  we  now  want,  I 
said,  is  a  new  religious  institution  or  church,  one 
that  shall  embody  the  advanced  intelligence  of  the 
age,  and  respond  to  all  the  new  wants  which  time 
and  events  have  developed.  Every  institution,  in 
that  it  is  an  institution,  has  something  fixed,  inflex- 
ible, and  inexpansive.  Hence  no  institution  can 
answer  the  wants  of  the  race  in  all  times  and  places. 
The  various  religions,  Fetichism,  Sabianism,  Sym- 
bolism, Polytheism,  Judaism,  Catholicism,  have  all 
been  good  and  useful  in  their  day,  when  and  where 
they  harmonized  with  the  wants  and  intelligence  of 
the  people ;  but  they  have  all  been  outgrown,  and 
the  human  race  has  cast  them  off,  as  the  grown  man 
casts  off  the  garments  of  his  childhood.  Catholicity 
was  good  in  its  day,  during  the  thousand  years 
which  intervened  between  the  fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire  of  the  West  and  the  rise  of  Luther  and  h\* 


IL'O 


THE   CONVKIIT. 


associates ;  for  daring  that  period  it  was  in  harmony 
with  the  general  intelligp~ice,  responded  to  tlie  high- 
est conceptions,  and  to  the  deepest  wants  of  the  soul 
then  developed.  It  led  the  age.  commanded  respect, 
commanded  obedience  and  love,  because  it  aided 
the  soul  in  its  progress,  inspired  the  heart  with 
noble  sentiments,  and  prepared  its  adherents  to 
engage  in  grand  and  heroic  enterprises  for  the 
liuman  race.  But  fixed  and  inflexible,  immovable 
and  unalterable  in  itself,  it  ceased  to  be  favorable 
to  progress  the  moment  it  had  brought  the  race 
up  to  its  own  level,  and  must  from  that  moment 
become  a  let  and  a  hindrance  to  progress, — a  mis- 
chievous institution,  which  must  be  demolished  and 
cleared  away  to  make  room  for  {^  new  and  bettor 
institution. 

That  Catholicity  had  been  outgrown  and  ceased 
to  be  useful,  was  evinced  by  the  Reformation.  Pro- 
testantism, was  not  a  religion,  was  not  a  church,  and 
in  itself  contained  no  germ  of  religious  organization. 
It  was  not  in  any  sense  an  institution.  Its  mission 
was  simply  one  of  destruction,  as  I  wrote  in  The 
Christian  Examiner j  in  1834,  But  its  rise  proved 
that  there  were  wants  and  lights  which  Catholicity 
did  not  meet— could  not  satisfy.  What,  then,  is 
our  mission?  Not  to  revive  Catholicity,  already 
become  superannuated  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
struck  with  death  by  Luther,  when  he  threw  his 
inkstand  in  the  face  of  the  devil ;  not  to  continue 
Protestantism,  which  was  simply  critical,  destructive, 
hnd  without  the  slightest  organic  character  or  ten- 


KELIOION   OF   HUMANITY. 


121 


dency,  or  the  least  power  to  erecfc  a  temple  of  con- 
cord and  peace,  of  union  and  progress.  What  then  T 
It  is  to  labor  directly  for  a  new  religious  institution, 
church,  or  organization,  which  shall  embody  the 
most  advanced  ideas  and  sentiments  of  the  race,  and 
be  The  Church  of  the  Future,  by  containing  in 
Itself  what  was  wanting  in  the  religions  of  the  past, 
— the  principle  of  its  own  progress. 


iii  f)^ 


u 


CHAPTER  IX. 


UNION  AND  PROGRESS. 


I  DID  not  lose  sight  of  the  great  end  I  proposed, — 
the  progress  of  man  and  society,  and  the  realization 
of  a  heaven  on  earth.  I  was  working  in  reference 
to  it  even  while  I  was  pursuing  my  historical, and 
philosopliical  researches,  and  maturing  my  .religious 
theories.  I  had  been  forced  to  resort  to  religious 
ideas  and  sentiments  for  the  power  to  work  effectu- 
ally for  it;  and  I  now  found  that  I  must  have  a 
religious  organization,  institution,  or  church,  in  order 
to  render  these  sentiments  practically  efficient.  This 
much  I  had  gained  from  Benjamin  Constant's  great 
work,  and  it  was  nearly  all  that  I  did  gain  from  it. 
The  work  of  destruction,  commenced  by  the  Refor- 
mation, which  had  introduced  an  era  of  criticism 
and  revolution,  had,  I  thought,  been  carried  far 
enough.  All  that  was  dissoluble  had  been  dissolved. 
All  that  was  destructible  had  been  destroyed,  and  it 
was  time  to  begin  the  work  of  reconstruction, — a 
work  of  reconciliation  and  love. 

Irreligious  ideas  and  sentiments  are  disorganizing 
and  destructive  in  their  nature,  and  cannot  be  safely 
cherislicd  for  a  single  moment  after  the  work  of 
destiiutioij  13  completed      When  the  work  to  be 


UNION  AND   PROGRESS. 


123 


(lone  is  that  of  construction^  of  building  up,  of  organ- 
izing, of  founding  something,  we  must  resort  to 
religious  ideas  and  sentiments,  for  they,  having  love 
for  their  principle,  are  plastic,  organic,  constructive, 
and  the  only  ideas  and  sentiments  that  are  so.  They 
are  necessary  to  the  new  organization  or  institution 
of  the  race  demanded ;  and  the  organization  or 
institution,  what  I  called  the  church,  is  necessary  to 
the  progress  of  man  and  society,  or  the  creation  of 
an  earthly  paradise.  The  first  thing  to  be  done  is 
to  cease  our  hostility  to  the  past,  discontinue  the 
work  of  destruction;  abandon  the  old  war  against 
the  Papacy,  which  has  no  longer  any  significance,  and 
in  a  spirit  of  universal  love  and  conciliation,  turn 
our  attention  to  the  work  of  founding  a  relisrious 
institution,  or  efi^ecting  a  new  church  organisation, 
adapted  to  our  present  and  future  wants. 

I'his  we  are  now,  I  thought,  in  a  condition  to 
attempt.  Men  are  beginning  to  understand  that  Pro- 
testantism is  no-churchism,  is  no  positive  religion ; 
and  while  it  serves  the  purpose  of  criticism  and 
destruction,  it  cannot  meet  the  wants  of  the  soul, 
or  erect  the  temple  in  which  the  human  race  may 
assemble  to  worship  in  concord  and  peace.  Unita- 
rianism  has  demolished  Calvinism,  made  an  end  iti 
all  thinking  minds  of  everything  like  dogmatic 
protestantism,  and  Unitarianism  itself  satisfies  no- 
body. It  is  negative,  cold,  lifeless,  and  all  advanced 
minds  among  Unitarians  are  dissatisfied  with  it,  and 
are  craving  something  higher,  better,  more  living 
and  hfegiving.     They  are  weary  of  doubt,  uncer- 


124 


THE  CONVERT. 


taintj)  disunion^  individaalism,  and  'crying  oat  from 
the  bottom  of  their  hearts  for  faith,  for  love,  for 
union.  They  feel  that  life  has  wellnigh  departed 
from  the  world ;  that  religion  is  but  an  empty  name^ 
and  morality  is  mere  decorum  or  worldly  prudence  ; 
that  men  neither  worship  God,  nor  love  one  another. 
Society  as  it  is,  is  a  lie,  a  sham,  a  charnel-house,  a 
valley  of  dry  bones.  O  that  the  Spirit  of  God  would 
once  more  pass  by,  and  say  unto  these  dry  bone% 
**  Live  'M  So  i  felt,  so  felt  others ;  and  whoever 
enjoyed  the  confidence  of  the  leading  Unitarian 
ministers  in  Boston  and  its  vicinity  from  18 SO  to 
1840,  well  knows  that  they  were  sick  at  heart  with 
what  they  had,  and  were  demanding  in  their  interior 
souls  a  religious  institution  of  some  sort,  in  which 
they^sould  find  shelter  from  the  storms  of  this  wintry 
world,  and  some  crumbs  of  the  bread  of  life  to  keep 
them  from  starving.  Not  only  in  Boston  was  this 
cry  heard.  It  came  to  us  on  every  wind  from  all 
quarters, — ^from  France,  from  Germany,  from  Eng- 
land even;  and  Garlyle,  in  his  Sartor  Besartua^ 
seemed  to  lay  his  finger  on  the  plague-spot  of  the 
age.  Men  had  reached  the  centre  of  indifference ; 
under  a  broiling  sun  in  the  B,ue  d^Enfer,  had  pro. 
nounced  the  everlasting  "No.''  Were  they  never 
to  be  able  to  pronounce  the  everlasting  "  Yes  '^  Y 

Among  them  all  I  was  probably  the  most  hopeful, 
and  the  most  disposed  to  act.  If  I  lacked  faith  in 
God,  I  had  faith  in  humanity.  The  criticisms  on  all 
subjects  sacred  and  profane,  the  bold  investigations 
of  every  department  of  life,  continued  unwearied!  y 


UNION   AND   PROGRESS. 


125 


for  three  hundred  years,  by  the  most  intrepid,  the 
most  energetic,  and  the  most  enlightened  portion  of 
mankind,  had,  I  thought,  sufficiently  developed  ideas 
and  sentiments,  and  obtained  for  us  all  the  light 
needed,  all  the  materials  wanted  for  commencing  the 
work  of  reorganization,  and  casting  broad  and  deep 
the  foundations  of  the  Church  of  the  Future.  All  that 
was  wanting  was  to  collect  the  ideas  which  these 
three  hundred  years  of  criticism  and  investigation 
had  developed,  and  mould  them  into  one  harmonious, 
complete,  and  living  system,  and  then  to  take  that 
system  as  the  principle  and  law  of  the  new  moral 
and  religious  organization.  Whence  that  system, 
formed  from  the  union  of  various  and  isolated  ideas, 
was  to  derive  its  life,  its  principle  of  unity  and 
vitality,  so  as  to  be  living  and  effective,  I  did  not  at 
the  time  specially  consider.  I  supposed  ideas  them^ 
selves  were  potent,  but,  hard  pressed,  I  probably 
should  have  said,  they  are  potent  by  the  potency  of 
the  human  mind,  or  the  Divinity  in  man. 

There  was  a  moment  when  I  looked  to  Dr. 
Clianning,  the  foremost  man  among  the  Unitarians, 
as  the  one  who  was  to  take  the  lead  in  this  work  of 
reorganization.  His  reputation  in  1834  was  high, 
and  he  loomed  up  at  a  distance  in  my  eyes  as  the 
great  man  of  the  age;  but  a  closer  view,  an  intimate 
personal  acquaintance  with  him,  soon  disabused  me. 
Dt*.  Channing  had  done  me  great  service  in  the  begin- 
iiin<;  of  my  efforts  to  rise  from  the  abyss  of  unbelief 
into  which  I  had  f  illen  ;  he  was  my  warm,  consider- 
^U',  and  steady  friend  ever  after  to  the  day  of  his 


126 


THE  CONVERT. 


7    "  ■ 


iii 


' '  ,^  -^il 


death.  Ho  consoled  me^  encouraged  me,  aided  me  in 
various  ways  j  and  I  can  never  forget  my  personal 
obligations  to  him.  I  hold,  and  always  shall  hold, 
his  memory  in  grateful  respect.  But  he  was  not  the 
great  man  many  supposed  him  to  be.  He  was  bene- 
volent, philanthropic,  and  anxious  to  do  all  in  his 
power  for  the  good  of  mankind,  especially  for  the 
relief  of  the  poorer  and  more  numerous  classes.  He 
had  a  just  horror  of  Calvinistic  theology,  and  warred 
to  the  last  against  the  Calvinistic  view  of  human 
nature.  He  rejected  with  indignation  the  doctrine 
of  total  depravity,  asserted  in  eloquent  terms  the 
dignity  of  human  nature,  and  entertained  the  loftiest 
conceptions  of  the  greatness  and  capacity  of  the 
human  soul.  He  asserted  so  frequently  and  so 
strongly  the  dignity  of  man,  that  one  of  his  brother 
ministers  said  of  him,  with  more  point  than  truth, 
however :  ^^  Dr.  Channing  makes  man  a  great  god, 
and  God  a  little  man."  He  certainly,  in  revolting 
against  the  Calvinistic  doctrine,  which  so  unduly 
depresses  the  human  to  make  way,  as  it  supposes,  for 
sovereign  grace,  ran  to  the  opposite  extreme,  and  as 
unduly  depressed  the  Divine,  and  exaggerated  the 
human.  He  is  answerable  for  no  small  portion  of  the 
soul-worship,  which  was  for  a  time  the  fashionable 
idolatry  of  the  metropolis  of  New  England. 

As  a  moral  man,  as  a  lover  of  his  kind,  as  a  sympa- 
thizer with  the  oppressed  and  the  downtrodden,  Dr. 
Channing  was  great,  but  he  was  never  a  clear  and 
profound  thinker.  He  was  no  philosopher,  no  theo* 
logian,  and  only  moderately  erudite.     As  a  reasoner, 


i  h 


UNION  AND  PROORESS. 


127 


as 
the 
the 
ible 


he  was  feeble  and  confused ;  as  a  controversialist, 
he  was  no  match  for  the  Worcesters,  Woods,  and 
Stuarts  in  the  ranks  of  his  Calvinistic  opponents. 
He  was  undoubtedly  an  eloquent  sernionizer,  and 
within  his  range  the  master  of  a  style  of  great 
simplicity,  sweetness,  and  beauty;  but  he  lacked 
vigor  and  robustness,  and  left  on  his  readers  the 
impression  that  he  was  sickly  and  inclining  to  senti- 
mentalism.  He  was  an  eloc^uent  and  effective 
declaimer,  and  was  felicitous,  when  the  matter  did 
not  lie  beyond  his  depth,  in  summing  up  and  clearly 
stating  the  various  points  in  a  question  after  it  had 
been  thoroughly  discussed  by  more  vigorous  and 
original,  but  less  polished  and  graceful,  minds  than 
his  own.  He  was  never,  to  my  knowledge,  a  leader 
in  the  world  of  thought  or  of  action,  and  his  study 
apparently  was  to  come  after  others,  and  to  rebuke 
or  applaud  them  as  seemed  to  him  proper ;  and  as 
he  usually  chose  his  time  for  intervening  with 
adroitness,  he  not  unfrequently  received  the  credit 
due  to  those  who  had  gone  before  and  enlightened  him. 
Dr.  Ohanning  exerted  for  a  long  time  a  very 
great  influence,  and  he  did,  no  doubt,  good  service 
in  demolishing  New-England  theology,  and  in 
liberalizing  the  New-England  mind ;  but  he  had  no 
original  genius  or  tendency.  His  nature  was  not 
expansive,  and  with  all  his  generous  sentiment  he 
lived,  as  it  were,  shut  up  in  himself.  He  inclined 
strongly  to  individualism,  and  distrusted  all  asso- 
ciated action,  though  sometimes  tolerating,  and  even 
encouraging  it.    His  sympathy  with  Unitarians,  as  a 


128 


THE  CONVERT. 


distinct  sect  or  denomination;  was  not  strong,  and  he 
gave  them  the  prestige  of  his  name  chiefly  because 
thej  suffered  reproach.  Unitarianism  he  regarded 
as  useful,  in  that  it  was  opposed  to  Calvinism  ;  but 
he  was  far  from  regarding  it  as  the  last  word  of 
Christian  truth.  His  own  mind,  I  apprehend, 
remained  unsettled  to  tlie  day  of  his  death.  He  felt 
that  he  was  still  seeking  after  the  tnith,  and  wait- 
ing for  it  to  dawn  on  him  and  the  world.  *^  There 
is,"  he  would  often  say  in  his  conversations  with 
me,  '^a  higher  form  of  Christian  truth  and  love 
needed  and  to  be  revealed,  than  the  world  has 
yet  seen ;  and  I  look  with  hope  to  the  discussions 
and  movements  in  the  midst  of  which  we  live,  to 
elicit  and  realize  it  for  mankind."  He  looked  for 
this  new  manifestation  of  Christian  truth  and  love 
in  a  socialist  direction.  I  do  not  think  he  had  any 
tendency  to  return  towards  New-England  orthodoxy, 
in  which  he  was  educated,  as  some  Evangelicals 
have  supposed.  As  far  as  I  could  discover,  his 
tendency  in  the  latter  years  of  his  life  was  to  place 
less  and  less  value  on  doctrines  of  any  sort,  and 
to  make  religion  consist  in  sentiment  alone.  He 
rejected  all  creeds  and  confessions,  rejected  all 
church  authority,  and  all  church  organization, 
though  he  died  a  member  of  the  Church  of 
the  Disciples,  founded  by  James  Freeman  Clarke, 
on  the  principle  that  true  Christians  are  they  who 
exclude  no  views,  whether  true  or  false,  and  are 
ever  learning,  and  never  able  to  come  to  the  know* 
ledge  of  the  truth. 


UNION  AND   PfiOOKESS. 


129 


Dr.  Channing  waa  not  and  could  not  be  the  man 
to  found  the  new  order,  and  rival  or  more  than  rival  a 
Moses,  and  a  greater  than  Moses.  Among  my  friends 
and  acquaintances  I  found  none.  Perhaps  the 
thought  passed  through  my  head  that  I  was  myself 
the  destiaed  man ;  but  I  did  not  entertain  it.  I  could 
not  be  more  than  John  the  Baptist,  or  the  Voice  of 
one  crying  in  the  wilderness,  ^'Behold  the  Lord 
comcth:  prepare  ye  to  meet  him.''  I  might,  per- 
haps, be  the  Precursor  of  the  new  Messias,  but 
not  the  new  Messias  himself.  My  business  was, 
not  to  found  the  new  church,  but  to  proclaim  its 
necessity,  and  to  prepare  men's  minds  and  hearts  to 
welcome  it. 

You  smUe  at  my  simplicity  or  at  my  lofty  estimate 
of  myself,  but  with  less  justice  than  you  suppose.  I 
was  a  believer  in  humanity,  and  the  God  I  professed 
to  worship  was  the  God  in  man.  I  was  with  the 
Unitarians,  and  had  not  advanced  nearer  to  Cliris- 
tianity  than  they  were :  most  of  them  thought  not  so 
near.  But  the  New-England  Unitarians,  though  very 
excellent  people  as  the  world  goes,  hold  nothing  that 
made  me  appear  absurd  or  ridiculous  in  thinking  as 
I  did.  They  are  the  descendants  of  the  New-Eng- 
land Arminians  of  the  last  century,  who  rejected  the 
Calviiiistic  doctrine  of  election  and  reprobation,  the 
^  restriction  of  the  atonement  to  the  elect,  the  inamis- 
V  oility  of  grace,  and  asserted  universal  redemption, 
Jfree-wiU,  and  other  points  very  nearly  as  settled  by 
tlie  Council  of  Trent.  In  the  early  part  of  the 
viresent  ccnturv,  it  was  found  that  nearlv    all    the 


irm 


THE  CONVERT. 


i   ,  I 


Aniiinian  cburches  and  their  ministers  in  Now  Eng- 
land had  silently  become  Pelagian  and  Unitarian. 
Tiioy  asserted  human  ability  in  relation  to  merit, 
and  rejected  both  the  Calvinistic  and  the  Catholic 
doctrine  of  grace,  denied  the  Atonement,  the  Incar- 
nation, and  the  proper  Divinity  of  the  Word,  and 
reduced  Christianity  very  nearly  to  simple  natural 
religion  or  philosophy,  as  every  consistent  reasoner 
must  do,  who  adopts  the  Pelagian  heresy.  Some  few 
among  the  Unitarians,  as  Dr.  Noah  Worcester  and, 
perhaps.  Dr.  Channing,  adopted  Arian  views,  or  at 
least  regarded  our  Lord  as  a  superangelic  person ; 
but  the  majority,  at  least  of  the  preachers,  regarded 
him  as  a  man,  with  one  simple  nature,  and  that 
human  nature,  though  a  man  extraordinarily,  some 
said  miraculously,  endowed,  and  divinely  commis- 
sioned to  teach  truth  and  righteousness,  chiefly 
through  the  singular  purity  and  holiness  of  his  life. 
He  taught  nothing  which,  when  once  revealed,  is 
above  the  ability  of  reason  to  comprehend,  and  was, 
in  his  moral  perfection,  in  no  sense  above  our  aim  or 
our  reach.  To  be  Christians  in  the  full  sense  of  the 
word,  we  must  be  what  he  was,  sons  of  God,  as  he 
was  the  Son  of  God. 

The  Bible  was  regarded  by  Unitarians  as  con- 
taining, upon  the  whole,  a  faithful  and  trustworthy 
record  of  the  revelations  of  truth  which  God  at 
sundry  times  and  in  divers  places  had  been  pleased 
to  make  to  mankind ;  but  not  as  plenarily  inspired, 
or  as  in  all  respects  free  from  the  errors  and  pre- 
judices of  the  times  in  which  it  was  written.     Holy 


''I'i 


UNION   AND   PROORK88 


131 


men  spake  of  old  as  they  were  moved  by  the  Holy 
Oliost,  that  Uf  by  a  pure  and  holy  spirit  or  interior 
liitiposicion,  and  may  do  so  now.  Men  are  as  near  to 
God  to-day  as  they  were  two  thousand  years  ago, 
and  may,  if  they  choose,  have  as  intimate  com- 
munion with  him,  and  be  as  truly  inspired  by  him. 

In  regard  to  another  life,  the  Unitarians  were  not 
precisely  agreed  among  themselves.  A  few  held  the 
orthodox  view  of  a  future  judgment  and  the  endless 
punishment  of  the  wicked ;  now  and  then  one 
thought  there  would  be  a  final  judgment,  and  that 
the  wicked,  those  who  died  wicked,  would  be  con- 
demned, and  then  annihilated.  Some  believed  in 
future  disciplinary  punishment,  the  restoration  of  the 
wicked,  and  the  ultimate  holiness  and  happiness  of 
all  men ;  others,  and  the  majority,  held  that  the 
future  life  would  be  simply  a  continuation,  under 
other  and  perhaps  more  favorable  conditions,  of  our 
present  natural  life,  in  which  we  should  take  rank 
according  to  the  progress  made  here,  and  in  which 
we  might  grow  better  and  happier,  or  worse  and 
more  miserable  forever.  With  these  last,  so  far  as 
I  had  any  fixed  views  on  the  subject,  I  agreed. 

The  heaven  the  Unitarians  promised  in  the  world 
to  come,  was  in  the  natural  order, — a  sort  of  natural 
beatitude,  such  as  some  Catholics  have  supposed 
might  be  enjoyed  by  those  in  the  least  unpleasant 
part  of  hell.  It  was  not  to  consist  in  the  beatific 
vision,  or  seeing  God  as  he  is  in  himself  by  the 
supernatural  light  of  glory,  but  in  a  reunipirj^'l  lo 
friends,  in  the  exercise  of  the  social  and 


nt 


4- 


■<<^ 


^ 


<# 


.^ 


X-? 


1 

\ 


<-^ 


132 


THE  CONVERT. 


affections,  and  the  study  of  the  natural  sciences,  in 
discovering  the  secrets  of  nature,  and  in  admiring 
the  beautjf  and  harmony  of  the  Creator's  works.  In 
its  details,  it  maj  differ  from  Mahomet's  paradise, 
but  hardly  so  in  principle.  Indeed  there  were  those 
among  us  who  openly  claimed  the  Mahometans  as 
good  Unitarians,  and  were  quite  disposed  to  fraternize 
with  thom.  It  need  therefore  surprise  nobody  tliat 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  and  gifted  of  the  early 
Unitarian  ministers  of  Boston  actually  did  f^o  to 
Turkey,  turn  Mahometan,  and  become  a  Moslem 
preacher.  He  published  in  English  a  volume  of 
Mahometan  sermons,  which  I  once  read.  I  thought 
them  equal  to  most  Unitarian  sermons  I  had  seen  or 
heard.  Even  John  Wesley,  the  founder  of  Method- 
ism, thought  Islamism  an  improvement  on  the  Chris- 
tianity of  the  Greeks  of  Constantinople* 

There  was  evidently  nothing  shocking  to  the 
Unitarian  mind  in  my  regarding  myself  as  the  Pre- 
cursor to  the  new  Messias.  Why  should  there  not 
be  new  Messiases  f  Indeed,  was  not  Kossuth,  vice- 
president  of  the  American  Bible  Society,  ex-govern- 
or of  Hungary,  when  he  came  to  this  country  a 
few  years  since,  greeted,  in  so  many  words,  as  the 
"Second  Messias,"  without  a  word  of  rebuke  in 
public  even  from  the  so-called  orthodox  Protestant 
press  t  Did  not  Methodist  schoolmasters  in  Cincin- 
nati bring  their  young  pupils  to  him  that  he  might 
bless  them  f  The  truth  is,  I  was  quite  modest  in 
claiming  for  myself  only  the  part  of  the  Precursor, 
and  many  came  to  ask  me  if  I  was  not  myself  a 


UNION   AND   TKOGRESS. 


133 


m 
lor, 
a 


second  Mcssias.  The  new  moral  world  must  have, 
of  course,  a  great  man,  a  representative  man,  to 
usher  it  in,  to  be  its  father  and  founder.  If  I  had 
regarded  myself  as  that  man,  and  thus  as  superior, 
by  all  the  difference  between  the  first  century  and 
the  nineteenth,  to  the  Founder  of  Christianity,  it 
would  have  argued  rather  my  low  estimate  of  Him 
than  my  high  estimate  of  myself;  and,  in  not  doing 
so,  I  proved  myself  more  modest  than  some  who  have 
come  after  me. 

Not  finding  among  my  friends  and  acquaintances 
the  ^*  representative  man,'^  and  waiting  till  he  should 
reveal  himself,  I  concluded  to  commence  a  direct 
preparation  for  his  coming.  One  man,  and  one  man 
only,  shared  my  entire  confidence,  and  knew  my  most 
secret  thought.  Him,  from  motives  of  delicacy,  I  do 
not  name ;  but,  in  the  formation  of  my  mind,  in 
systematizing  my  ideas,  and  in  general  development 
and  culture,  I  owe  more  to  him  than  to  any  other 
man  among  Protestants.  We  have  since  taken 
divergent  courses,  but  I  loved  him  as  I  have  loved 
no  other  man,  and  shall  so  love  and  esteem  him  as 
long  as  I  live.  He  encouraged  me,  and  through  him 
I'hiefly  I  was  enabled  to  remove  to  Boston  and  com- 
mence operation^.  Dr.  Channing  and  several  of  his 
personal  friends,  without  knowing  all  my  purposes, 
aUo  assisted  me.  I  was  invited  to  Boston  to  preach 
to  tlie  laboring  classes,  and  to  do  all  I  could  to  save 
thcin  from  the  unbelief  which  had  become  quite 
prevnlent  among  them.  I  accepted  the  invitation, 
proposing  to  myself  to  make  of  it  an  opportunity  to 


134 


THE  CONVERT. 


bring  out  n.y  religious  and  socialist  theories,  and  to 
call  public  attention  to  the  necessity  of  a  new 
religious  organization  of  mankind.  I  accordingly 
organized)  on  the  first  Sunday  in  July,  1836,  '^  The 
Society  for  Christian  Union  and  Progress." 

The  name  I  gave  to  the  society  was  indicatiye  of 
the  principle  of  the  future  organization,  and  of  the 
end  I  contemplated, — ^the  union  and  progress  of  the 
race.  I  remained,  with  some  interruption,  the  min- 
ister of  this  Society  till  the  latter  part  of  1843,  when 
I  began  to  suspect  that  man  is  an  indifferent  church- 
builder,  and  that  God  himself  had  already  founded  a 
church  for  us,  some  centuries  ago,  quite  adequate  to 
our  wants,  and  adapted  to  our  nature  and  destiny. 
My  Society  at  one  time  was  prosperous,  but  in 
general  I  could  not  pride  myself  on  my  success  ]  yet 
I  saw  clearly  enough,  that,  with  more  confidence  in 
myself,  a  firmer  grasp  of  my  own  convictions,  a 
stronger  attachment  to  my  own  opinions  because 
they  were  mine,  and  a  more  dogmatic  temper  than  I 
possessed,  I  might  easily  succeed,  not  in  founding 
a  liew  Catholic  Church  indeed,  but  in  founding  a 
new  sect,  and  perhaps  a  sect  not  without  influence. 
But  a  new  sect  was  not  in  my  plan,  and  I  took 
pains  to  prevent  my  movement  frona  growing 
into  one.  What  I  wanted  was,  not  sectarism,  of 
which  I  felt  we  had  had  quite  too  much,  but  unity 
and  catholicity.  I  wished  to  unite  men,  not  to  di- 
vide them — to  put  an  end  to  divisions,  not  to 
multiply  them. 

The  truth  is,  I  was  not,  except  on  a  few  points. 


(I 


UNION   AND   PROGRESS. 


135 


settled  in  my  own  mind.  I  never  concealed,  or 
affected  to  conceal,  that  I  regarded  myself  as  still  a 
learner,  a  seeker  after  truth,  not  as  one  who  has 
found  the  truth,  and  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  preach 
it.  I  always  told  my  congregation  that  I  was  look- 
ing for  more  light,  and  that  I  could  not  be  sure  that 
my  convictions  would  be  to-morrow  what  they  are 
to-day.  Whether  I  preached  or  wrote,  I  aimed 
simply  at  exciting  thought  and  directing  it  to  the 
problems  to  be  solved,  not  to  satisfy  the  mind  or 
furnish  it  with  dogmatic  solutions  of  its  difficulties* 
I  was  often  rash  in  my  statements,  because  I 
regarded  myself  not  as  putting  forth  doctrines  that 
mvLtt  be  believed,  but  as  throwing  out  provocatives 
to  thought  and  investigation.  My  confidence  was 
not  in  the  individual  mind,  whether  my  own  or  an- 
other'<i,  but  in  humanity,  in  the  action  and  decisions 
of  the  general  mind,  the  universal  reason. 

I  was  perfectly  consistent  in  this ;  and  my  course, 
I  thought  then,  and  I  think  now,  was  the  only 
honest  course  for  a  man  who  has  not  an  infallible 
authority  to  which  he  can  appeal,  and  in  the  name 
of  which  he  is  commissioned  to  speak.  If  the  crite- 
rion of  truth  is  the  universal  reason,  or  the  reason 
of  all  men,  not  my  individual  reason )  and  if  I  am 
imperfect  and  yet  progressive,  never  knowing  the 
whole  truth,  yet  able  to  know  more  to-morrow  than 
I  know  to-day,  how  can  I,  as  an  honest  man,  regard 
my  private  opinions  as  dogmas,  or  put  forth  my 
personal  convictions,  as  so  much  eternal  and  immu- 
table truth  t  What  as  yet  the  universal  reason  has 


136 


THE  CONVERT. 


not  passed  upon,  what  has  not  as  yet  received  the 
seal  of  approbation  from  universal  and  immutable 
human  nature,  can  be  regarded  only  as  private 
opinion,  which  I  have  no  right  to  ask  others  to 
believe,  or  to  assert  as  indisputable.  I  was  in  fact 
too  honest,  too  consistent,  and  too  distrustful  of 
myself  to  succeed. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MT  **NEW  VIEWS.*' 


I  WROTE  and  published,  immediaieiy  after  organiz- 
ing my  Society,  a  small  work  entitled,  New  Views 
of  Christianity^  Society^  and  the  Churchy  derived  in 
grt  at  part  from  Benjamin  Constant,  Victor  Cousin, 
Ueinrich  Heine^  and  the  publications  of  the  Saint- 
Simonians;  It  was  deugned  to  set  forth  the  reasons 
which  made  a  new  church  necessary,  to  assert  the 
principles  on  which  it  roust  be  founded  or  the  end  it 
must  be  established  to  effect,  and  to  call  attention  to 
the  signs  of  the  times  favorable  to  its  speedy 
organization.  The  book  made  little  sensation,  and 
had  few  readers.  It  met  with  no  success  flattering 
to  the  pride  or  vanity  of  its  author;  yet  the  book  is 
remarkable  for  its  protest  against  Protestantism,  and 
its  laughable  blunders  as  to  the  doctrines  and 
tendencies  of  the  Catholic  Church,  to  which  I  was 
by  no  means  hostile,  but  of  whioh  I  was  profoundly 
ignorant.  It  is  no  less  remarkable  for  its  acceptance 
and  vindication,  in  principle,  of  nearly  all  the  errors 
into  which  the  human  race  has  fallen.  It  is  the  last 
word  of  the  non-Catholic  world,  and  marks  the  limit 
beyond  which  it  cannot  advance  without  recoiling. 
In  one   respect,    I   misjudged   my   countrymen; 


138 


THE  CONVERT. 


they  had  less  understanding  of  their  Protestantism 
than  I  gave  them  credit  for.  They  were  unable  to 
recognize  their  own  thoughts  in  the  general  and  ab- 
stract form  in  which  I  stated  them.  The  truth^  I 
suppose,  is.  that  Protestants,  with  individual  excep- 
tions, seldom  reason  on  their  Protestantism,  or  take 
the  trouble  to  analyze  it  and  understand  what  it  really 
is.  They  do  not  reduce  it  to  its  ultimate  principles, 
and  appreciate  them  in  their  real  and  essential  char- 
acter. Perhaps  they  are  not  capable  of  doing  it ; 
perhaps  they  are  too  busy  with  the  world  to  attempt 
it;  perhaps,  also,  they  have  a  lurking  suspicion, 
that,  should  they  attempt  it,  they  would  find  it  dis- 
appearing in  the  process,  and  themselves  deduced  to 
the  necessity  of  choosing  between  Catholicity  and 
no-religion.  There  is  no  doubt  that,  if  they  are  de- 
termined to  be  Protestants,  they  are  wise.  Few  who 
have  thoroughly  analyzed  Protestantism,  thoroughly 
mastered  its  distinctive  principles,  have  been  able 
to  retain  their  respect  for  it. 

I  found  my  countrymen  more  attached  to  the 
Protestant  name  and  traditions,  and  more  hostile  to 
the  Catholic  Church,  than  I  had  supposed  them.  I 
could  not  understand  why  they  should  cling  so  tena- 
ciously to  a  mere  shadow,  or  pursue  so  unrelentingly 
the  dead.  For  my  part,  I  was  no  Catholic,  should 
never  be  a  Catholic,  but  I  felt  no  hostility  to  Cath- 
olicity. It  had  been  respectable  in  its  day,  had  done 
good  service  to  mankind  for  a  thousand  years,  and 
was  now  dead  and  buried.  Why  war  against  it  f 
Bather  strew  fresh  flowers  on  its  grave,  and  breathe 


MY   "new  VIEWli." 


139 


the 

to 
I 

ena- 
ngly 
ould 
ath- 
done 

and 
it? 

atlie 


over  its  mouldering  ashes  a  requiescat  in  pace.    For 
Protestantism,  regarded  as  a  religion,  I  had  had, 
since  my  brief  trial  of  Presbyterianism,  no  respect, 
no  afFection.     All  that  it  had  of  religion  was  bor- 
rowed from  the  Church,  and  all  it  bad  of  its  own  was 
simple  negation.     Undoubtedly  it  had,  I  conceded, 
been  necessary  in  its  time,  when  the  work  to  be  done 
was  to   demolish  the  old  Church ;    undoubtedly  it 
had  done  good  service  as  a  destroying  angel,  in 
breaking  the  chains  in  which  the  Papacy  held  the 
world,  and  in  obtaining  for  the  race  the  freedom  to 
advance;  but  it  had  done  its    work,  and   was   no 
longer  justifiable  or  excusable.     It  had  become  mis- 
chievous, more  mischievous    than   was    Catholicity 
when  Luther  rose  up  against  it.     It  could  not  com- 
mand the  intellect  of  the  age,  could  not  meet  the 
wants   of   the  heart,   could  not  aid   or   direct   the 
progress  of  the  race.     It  was  a  dissolvent,  but  no 
harmonizer.     It  split    by    its    everlasting   protests, 
criticisms,  and  negations,  the  race  into  divisions,  but 
had  no  power  to  reunite  them,  and  make  them  of 
one  mind  and  one  heart.     As  a  religious  institution,  it 
was  a  sham,  and  no  reality.     It  only  disgusted  men 
with  the  very  name  of  religion,   and  drove  every 
living  man.  every  man  of  free  thought  and  loving 
heart,  into  doubt,  infidelity,  atheism  j  or  chilled  all 
his  nobler  feelings,  rendered  him  indiflferent  to  all 
elevated  thought,    or  generous    and    noble   deeds, 
and  forced  him  to  engross  himself  in  the  pursuit  of 
wealth,  or  to  seek  dissipation  in  effeminating  sensual 
pleasures. 


140 


THE  COSmSBT 


As  I  recovered  in  some  measure  from  my  absolute 
unbelief,  and  saw  and  felt  the  necessity  of  religion 
as  the  agent  of  progress,  I  devoted  myself  to  solving 
the  problem  of  a  religion  which  should  be  neither 
Protestantism  nor  Catholicity,  but  which  should  em- 
body all  that  was  true  and  holy  in  the  latter,  with 
the  free  spirit,  the  ideas*  and  sentiments  which  had 
been  developed  by  the  fonner.  I  had  studied  the  new 
philosophy  of  Cousin,  and  had  seized  firm  hold  of 
its  eclectic  feature, — the  feature  which  at  that  time 
struck  me  with  the  most  force.  Other  elements  of 
M.  Cousin's  philosophy  afterwards  had  more  charm 
for  me ;  but  «i4ieii  I  first  became  acquainted  with  it 
in  1833,  I  knew  little  of  metaphysics,  and  only 
attended  ti  those  things  in  the  works  I  read,  which 
I  could  appropriate  to  my  purposes,  or  which  I 
found  solving,  or  appearing  to  solve,  the  problems 
with  which  I  was  more  especially  occupied. 

For  M.  Cousin's  ontology  or  his  psychology,  words 
of  which  I  hardly  understood  the  meaning,  I  cared 
Uttle.  Whether  the  method  of  philosophizing  be 
intuitive  or  demonstrative;  whether  we  derive  all 
our  ideas  through  the  senses,  or  have  a  noetic  faculty 
by  which  we  may  attam  direcdy  the  non-sensible 
world,  was  for  me  a  matter  of  comparative  indiffer- . 
ence.  I  did  not  and  could  not  study  philosophy  for 
its  own  sake.  But  the  eclectic  character  of  the 
system  arrested  my  attention,  and  M.  Cousin's 
assertion,  that  all  systems  are  true  in  what  they 
affirm,  false  only  in  what  they  deny,  or  only  in  that 
they  are  exclusive,  set  my  head  at  work.     If  this  is 


MT   "new  views." 


HI 


true  m  pbilosophj,  it  mast  be  equally  trne  in  relig- 
ious systems^  and  I  immediately  concluded  with 
Leibnitz,  though  I  knew  not  then  that  Leibnitz  had 
80  concluded,  that  all  sects  are  right  in  what  they 
affirm,  false  in  what  they  deny  or  exclude.  Exam- 
ine all  sects,  then,  analyze  them,  get  at  the  affirmative 
or  positive  principle  of  each,  and  mould,  in  the 
light  of  a  higher  unity,  those  principles  into  a 
uniform  and  harmonious  whole,  and  you  will  have 
the  pure  truth  without  admixture  of  error.  This  is 
true,  so  far  as  it  concerns  truth  of  the  natural  order, 
or  truth  as  a  development  of  human  nature ;  but  it 
will  not  apply  to  supernatural  revelation,  or  even  to 
the  natural  order,  only  up  to  the  present  moment, 
if  we  assume  the  progressive  development  of  man- 
kind, and  the  progressive  nature  of  truth  itself. 
The  former  did  not  disturb  me,  for  I  had  not  yet 
attained  to  a  belief  in  supernatural  revelation  prop- 
erly so  called,  and  I  made  allowance  for  the  latter. 

With  my  principle  of  eclecticism  I  proceeded  to 
examine  and  ascertain  the  affirmative  portion  of 
Catholicity,  and  the  affirmative  portion  of  Protest- 
antism. I  began  my  book  by  asserting  the  theory, 
already  developed,  of  the  origin  of  religion  in  a 
sentiment  natural  to  man,  and  the  progressive  nature 
of  the  forms  with  which  man  clothes  it.  Then  I 
considered  Catholicism  as  the  first  form  which  the 
religious  sentiment  assumed  under  Christianity. 
This  form  embodied  the  noblest  seniiments  and  the 
most  advanced  intelligence  of  the  age  in  which  it 
originated^  and  served  the  race  for  a  thousand  years. 


142 


THE  CONVERT. 


|!  < 


But  it  was  founded  on  an  exclusive  principle,  and 
could  not,  therefore,  answer  for  all  times  and  all 
stages  of  human  progress.  I  found,  taking  it  as 
represented  to  me  by  Heine  and  the  Saint-Simonians, 
that  its  principle  was  exclusive  spiritualism,  and 
the  neglect  or  depression  of  the  material  order.  It 
fitted  men  to  die,  but  not  to  live;  for  heaven,  but 
not  for  earth — promising  a  heaven  hereafter,  but 
creating  none  here.  Then  I  proceeded  to  Protest- 
antism, and  found  it,  as  distinguished  from  Catholi- 
cism, based  on  exclusive  materialism,  and  the 
depression  or  the  denial  of  the  spirit  ial.  It  takes 
care  of  this  life,  but  neglects  that  winch  is  to  come ; 
amasses  material  goods,  but  lays  up  no  treasures  in 
heaven ;  rehabilitates  the  flesh,  but  depresses  the 
spirit ;  elevates  humanity,  but  obscures  the  Divinity. 
It  is  in  principle  the  revival  of  Greek  and  Roman 
heathenism,  and  has  culminated,  in  the  worship  of  a 
prostitute  as  the  Goddess  of  Reason,  and  the  conver- 
sion of  the  Church  into  the  Pantheon,  as  in  the 
French  Revolution  of  1789.  Each  system  is  wrong 
in  what  it  excludes,  and  each  is  right  in  what  it 
affirms.  What  is  wanted  is  the  union  of  the  two  in 
all  that  they  have  that  is  affirmative.  And  this 
union  of  Catholicism  and  Protestantism,  of  spirit- 
ualism and  materialism,  or  spirit  and  matter,  was 
what  I  meant  by  union  in  the  name  of  my  Society, 
and  I  asserted  union  as  the  condition  of  progress. 
As  separate  systems,  both  had  exhausted  their  ener- 
gies, and  accomplished  all  they  could  for  mankind, 
and  the  time  had  come  for  the  union  of  the  two. 


MY   **NEW  VIEWS.** 


143 


the  Bpiritual  and  the  material,  the  heavenly  and  the 
earthly,  the  eternal  and  the  temporal,  the  Divine 
and  the  human,  realizing  the  idea  of  the  Qod-man, 
asserted  by  the  Christian  dogma ;  and  their  embodi- 
ment in  an  outward  organization  of  mankind,  which 
should  secure  to  each  full  play  for  its  activity  in 
harmony  with  the  other.  Thus  we  should  provide 
alike  for  soul  and  body  at  one  and  the  saibe  time, 
get  rid  of  that  dualism  which  has  hitherto  rent 
asunder  both  the  individual  and  society,  and  been 
the  source  of  life's  tragedy,  and  restore  love,  har- 
mony, peace,  in  the  bosom  of  each, — the  realization 
of  the  Atonement,  or  the  Reconciliation. 

How  this  union  was  to  be  effected  outwardly,  or 
what  would  be  the  precise  form  of  this  new  organi- 
zation, I  did  not  clearly  perceive,  or  pretend  to  be  able 
to  determine.  The  idea  must  go  before  its  embodi- 
ment. My  mission  was  not  to  effect  the  organization, 
but  to  develop  and  set  forth  the  idea.  Once  get  men 
fairly  imbued  with  the  idea,  in  love  with  it,  convinced 
of  its  truth,  and  anxious  for  its  external  realization, 
and  the  great  man,  will  appear,  who,  having  realized 
it  internally  for  himself,  will  realize  it  externally  for 
the  world, — a  new  Moses,  a  new  Christ. 

Wild,  visionary,  and  absurd  as  all  this  may  seem, 
it  is  nothing  but  a  statement  of  the  common  belief 
of  my  non- Catholic  countrymen.  Protestantism  in 
its  origin  pretended  to  be  a  return  to  the  truth  and 
simplicity  of  primitive  Christianity,  and  a  few  Pro- 
testants, who  are  simply  men  of  routine,  may  pretend 
the  same  even  yet  |  but  these  are  the  old  fogies  of 


144 


THE  COWVKKT. 


I 


i| 


(he  Protettftnt  world,  and  do  not  oarrj  the  age  or 
the  countiy  with  them.  Protestantism  is  defended 
to-day  as  an  advance  on  Catholicity  in  Christian 
trath  and  knowledge,  and  the  Church  is  condemned 
as  stationary,  as  inflexible,  inexpansire,  and  neither 
advancing  herself,  nor  permitting  mankind  to  ad- 
vance. She  is  denounced  as  behind  the  age,  as  not 
up  Mrith  the  times,  and  as  bent  on  keeping  men 
back  in  the  narrow  ideas,  the  ignorance  and  super- 
stition, of  the  Dark  Ages.  She  is  condemned,  as 
being  hostile  to  material  civilization,  as  neglecting 
the  body,  as  demanding  the  crucifixion  of  the  flesh, 
as  insisting  on  penance,  mortification,  and  detach- 
ment from  the  world.  Protestantism,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  lauded  as  a  progressive  religion,  a  religion 
that  allows  full  scope  to  human  activity,  that  aids 
men  forward  in  material  progress,  encourages 
industry,  thrift,  commerce,  manufactures,  enterprise, 
invents  steamboats,  railroads,  lightning  telegraphs, 
and  makes  all  nature  contribute  to  the  earthly  well- 
being  of  man.  Are  we  not  every  day  reminded  of  the 
alleged  material  superiority  of  Protestant  nations  to 
Catholic  nations,  as  a  proof  oi  the  truth  of  Protest- 
antism, and  of  the  falsity  and  mischievousness  of 
Catholicity  f    There  is  no  denying  it. 

Again,  is  it  not  the  constant  effort  of  all  Protests 
ants,  who  retain  a  sense  of  religion,  to  unite  in 
their  Church  the  human  and  the  Divine,  the  earthly, 
and  the  heavenly,  the  material  and  the  spiritual, 
the  temporal  and  the  eternal — ^to  combine  their  love 
of  the  world  with  the  love  of  God,  and  to  find  out  an 


MY   "NEW   VIKWS." 


145 


easier  way  to  get  to  heaven  than  that  hy  penance, 
mortification^  self-denial,  and  detachment  from  the 
world  f  Everybody,  up  to  the  intelligence  of  the  agOy 
knows  that  it  is  so,  and  concedes  it. 

With  regard  to  the  Church,  the  great  mass  of  ray 
non-Catholic  countrymen  hold  that  it  was  divine  only 
in  the  sense  that  the  idea  around  which  it  is  formed, 
and  which  it  seeks  to  embody,  was  divinely  revealed. 
They  nearly  all  hold  with  Quizot,  that  "  Christianity 
came  into  the  world  a  naked  idea,"  a  doctrine,  and, 
operating  as  such  in  men's  minds  and  hearts,  has  led 
them  to  form  or  organize  the  Church.  Even  the 
mass  of  Episcopaliai^s,  approaching  nearer  to  church 
views  than  any  other  sect  at  present  among  us,  take 
the  church  from  the  doctrine,  not  the  doctrine  from 
the  church.  The  whole  tendency  of  the  age  is  to 
regard  religion  as  a  development  of  man,  of  his 
higher  nature,  and  the  Church  as  the  outward  ex- 
pression of  the  inward  thought.  This  is  the  doctrine 
taught  by  the  leading  Protestant  minds  of  France, 
Germany,  Great  Britain,  and  the  United  States. 
Even  those  who  the  most  distinctly  assert  divine 
revelation,  regard  it  as  quickening  thought  and 
aiding  its  development,  rather  than  as  teaching  any 
distinct,  formal,  objective  doctrines.  I  was,  then, 
really  only  up  to  the  level  of  Protestantism,  and  in 
principle  did  not  differ  essentially  from  my  Protest- 
ant contemporaries.  I  drew,  perhaps,  conclusion» 
where  they  drew  none  and  held  themselves  in 
suspense. 

My  views  were  hardly  new  or  singular  j  but  the 

7 


U6 


TIIK   COX^'KUT. 


manner  in  which  thej  were  received  was  instruc- 
tive, and  satisfied  me  that  my  Protestant  countrymen, 
Uiough  disclaiming  all  authority  in  matters  of  belief, 
and  professing  to  discard  all  authoritative  tradition, 
were  little  accustomed,  except  in  worldly  affairs,  to 
free,  independent,  distinct  thought.  For  the  most 
part,  their  belief,  I  found,  was  practically  a  prejudice. 
They  had  never  thought  out  their  doctrines,  and 
they  took  them  merely  on  trust,  and  that,  too,  without 
ever  troubling  themselves  to  inquire  whether  they 
accorded  or  not  with  what  they  held  to  be  the  prin- 
ciples of  reason.  They  held  all  my  views,  though 
mixed  up  witt)  much  extraneous  and  contradictory 
matter.  Yet  they  recoiled,  or  affected  to  recoil, 
with  horror  from  my  statements,  and  bespattered  inu 
with  cant  phrases  and  epithets,  to  which,  I  presume, 
not  one  in  ten  attached  any  definite  meaning ;  and, 
of  those  who  did  attach  such  meaning,  not  one  in  a 
hundred  believed  it,  or  was  not  prepared  in  the  next 
breath  to  contradict  it. 

I  was  convinced  that  I  had  gone  too  fast  for  the 
public,  and  that  there  remained  a  greater  preliminary 
work  to  be  done  than  I  had  supposed.  To  effect 
something  in  regard  to  this  preliminary  work,  I 
x«istablished,  in  January,  1838,  a  Quarterly  Review, 
which  I  conducted  almost  single-handed  for  five 
year?;  i\nd  in  1840  published  "  Charles  Elwood ;  or. 
The  Infidel  Converted,"  a  philosophico-religious  work, 
strung  together  on  a  slight  thread  of  fiction.  My 
Quarterly  Review  was  devoted  to  religion,  philo- 
sophy, politics,  and  general  literature.     It  had  no 


MY    "new    views." 


147 


truc- 
meni 
elief, 
ition, 
irs,  to 
most 
iidice. 
B;  and 
ithout 
r  they 
\  prin- 
though 
iictory 
recoil, 
red  inc 
esunie, 
;  and, 
e  in  a 
e  next 


creed,  no  distinct  doctrines  to  support  on  any  subject 
whatever,  and  was  intended  for  free  and  independent 
discussion  of  all  questions  which  I  might  regard  as 
worth  discussing,  not,  however,  with  a  view  of 
settling  them,  or  putting  an  end  to  any  dispute. 
I  had  purposes  to  accomplish,  but  not,  and  I  did  not 
profess  to  have,  a  body  of  truth  I  wished  to  bring 
out  and  make  prevail.  My  aim  was  not  dogmatism, 
but  inquiry ;  and  my  more  immediate  purpose  was 
to  excite  thought,  to  quicken  the  mental  activity  of 
my  countrymen,  and  force  them  to  think  freely  and 
independently  on  the  gravest  and  most  delicate 
subjects.  I  aimed  to  startle,  and  made  it  a  point  to 
be  as  p'>radoxical  and  as  extravagant  as  I  could, 
without  doing  violence  to  my  own  reason  and  eon- 
science.  Whoever  reads  the  five  volumes  of  that 
Review,  nearly  all  written  by  myself,  with  the  view 
of  finding  clear,  distinct,  and  consistent  doctrines  on 
any  subject,  with  the  exception  of  certain  political 
questions,  will  be  disappointed ;  but  whoever  reads 
it  to  find  provocatives  to  thought,  stimulants  to 
inquiry,  and  valuable  hints  on  a  great  variety  of 
important  topics,  will  probably  be  satisfied.  I  did 
what  I  aimed  to  do,  efi^ected  my  purpose,  and,  though 
its  circulation  was  limited,  its  influence  was  such  as 
to  satisfy  me.  The  Review  should  be  judged  by 
the  purpose  for  which  it  was  instituted,  not  merely 
by  the  speculations  it  contains.  Many  of  them,  no 
doubt,  are  crude,  rash,  and  thrown  out  with  a  certain 
recklessness  which  nothing,  if  I  had  aimed  to  dogma* 
tize,   could  justify,   but  as  designed  simply  to  set 


148 


THE  CONVERT. 


other  minds  to  thinking,  may,  perhaps,  escape  any 
great  severity  of  censure. 

None  of  my  countrymen  are  less  disposed  to 
accept  entire  the  speculations,  theories,  and  utter- 
ances of  that  Quarterly  Review,  than  I  am,  and  yet 
I  believe  it  deserves  an  honorable  mention  in  the 
history  of  American  Literature ;  and  the  opinions  it 
enunciates  on  a  great  variety  of  topics  are  substan- 
tially such  as  I  still  hold  On  the  same  topics.  On 
other  points  I  should  have  been  right  if  my  facts 
had  been  true.  It  will  be  generally  found,  to  speak 
after  the  manner  of  the  logicians,  that  my  major 
was  sound,  but  my  minor  often  needed  to  be  denied^ 
or  distinguished.  There  is  much  in  these  volumes, 
especiaUy  the  later  ones,  to  indicate  that  my  mind 
did  not  remain  stationary,  that  I  was  beginning  to 
look  in  the  direction  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and 
that  I  had,  after  all,  less  to  change  on  becoming  a 
Catholic  than  was  commonly  supposed  at  the  time. 
The  public  read  me  more  or  less,  but  hardly  knew 
what  to  make  of  me.  They  regarded  me  as  a  bold 
and  vigorous  writer,  but  as  eccentric,  extravagant, 
paradoxical,  constantly  changing,  and  not  to  be 
counted  on ;  not  perceiving  that  I  did  not  wish  to  be 
counted  on,  in  their  sense,  as  a  leader  whom  they 
could  safely  follow,  and  who  would  save  them  the 
labor  of  thinking  for  themselves.  My  aim  was  to 
induce,  to  force,  others  to  think  for  themselves,  not 
to  persuade  them  to  permit  me  to  do  their  thinking 
for  them.  This  aim  was  just  and  proper  in  one 
who  knew  he  had  no  authority  to  teach. 


CHAPTER  XL 


SAINT-SIMONlStf. 


If  I  drew  my  doctrine  of  Union  iu  part  from  the 
Eclecticism  of  Cousin,  I  drew  my  views  of  the 
Church  and  of  the  reorganization  of  the  race  from 
the  Saint-Simonians, — a  philosophico-religious,  or  a 
politico-philosophical  sect  that  sprung  up  in  France 
under  the  Restoration,  and  figured  largely  for  a 
year  or  two  under  the  monarchy  of  July.  Their 
founder  was  Claude  Henrij  Count  de  Saint-Simon,  a 
descendant  of  the  Due  de  Saint-Simon,  well  known 
as  the  author  of  the  Memoirs,  He  was  born  in 
1760,  entered  the  army  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  and 
the  year  after  came  to  this  country,  where  he  served 
with  distinction  in  our  Revolutionary  War  under 
Bouille.  After  the  peace  of  1783,  he  devoted  two 
years  to  the  study  of  our  people  and  institutions,  and 
then  returned  to  France.  Hardly  had  he  returned 
before  he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  the  French 
Revolution,  which  he  regarded  as  the  practical 
application  of  the  principles  or  theories  adopted  by 
the  Reformers  of  the  sixteenths  century,  and  popular- 
ized by  the  philosophers  of  the  eighteenth.  He 
looked  upon  that  revolution,  we  are  told,  as  havin; 
Mily  a  destructive  mission,  necessary,  important,  bat 


! 


150 


THE   CONVERT. 


H 


inadequate  to  the  wants  of  humanity  ;  and  instead  of 
being  carried  away  by  it,  as  were  most  of  the  young 
men  of  his  age  and  his  principles,  he  set  himself  at 
work  to  amass  materials  for  the  erection  of  a  new 
social  edifice  on  the  ruins  of  the  old,  which  should 
stand  and  improve  in  solidity,  strength,  grandeur, 
and  beauty  forever. 

The  way  he  seems  to  have  taken  to  amass  these 
materials  was  to  engage  with  a  partner  in  some 
grand  speculations  for  the  accumulation  of  wealthy 
and  speculations  too,  it  is  said,  not  of  the  most 
honorable,  or  even  the  most  honest,  character.  His 
plans  succeeded  for  a  time^  and  he  became  very 
rich,  as  did  many  others  in  those  troublous  times ; 
but  he  finally  met  with  reverses,  and  lost  all  but  the 
wrecks  of  his  fortune.  He  then  for  a  number  of 
years  plunged  into  all  manner  of  vice,  and  indulged 
to  excess  in  every  species  of  dissipati  jn,  not,  we  are 
told,  from  love  of  vice,  any  inordinate  desire,  or  any 
impure  affection ;  but  for  the  holy  purpose  of  pre- 
paring himself  by  his  experience  for  the  great  work 
of  redeeming  man,  and  securing  for  him  a  paradise 
on  earth.  Having  gained  all  that  experience  could 
give  him  in  the  department  of  vice,  he  then  pro- 
ceeded to  consult  the  learned  professors  of  FJ^cole 
Polytechnique  for  seven  or  ten  years,  to  make 
himself  master  of  science,  literature,  and  the  fine 
arta  in  all  their  departments,  and  to  place  himself  at 
the  level  of  the  last  attainments  of  the  race.  Thus 
qualified  to  be  the  founder  of  a  new  social  organi- 
zation, he  wrote  several  books,  in  which  he  deposi  cd 


8A12«T-8iMU2»18M. 


101 


the  germs  of  his  ideas,  or  rather  the  germs  of  the 
future,  and  most  of  which  have  hitherto  remained 
unpublished. 

But  now  that  he  was  so  well  qualified  for  his  work, 
he  found  himself  a  beggar,  and  had  as  yet  made  only 
a  single  disciple.  He  was  reduced  to  despair,  and 
attempted  to  take  his  own  life ;  but  failed,  the  ball 
only  grazing  his  sacred  forehead.  His  faithful  dis- 
ciple was  near  him,  saved  him,  and  aroused  him  into 
life  and  hope.  When  he  recovered,  he  found  that 
he  had  fallen  into  a  gross  error.  He  had  been  a 
materialist,  an  atheist,  and  had  discarded  all  religious 
ideas  as  long  since  outgrown  by  the  human  race. 
He  had  proposed  to  organize  the  human  race  with 
materials  furnished  by  the  senses  alone,  and  by  the 
aid  of  positive  science.  He  owns  his  fault,  and  con- 
ceives and  brings  forth  a  new  Christianity,  consigned 
to  a  small  pamphlet  entitled  Nauveau  Christianismej 
which  was  immediately  published.  This  done,  his 
mission  was  ended,  and  he  died  May  19,  1825,  and 
I  suppose  was  buried. 

Saint-Simon,  the  preacher  of  a  new  Christianity, 
very  soon  attracted  disciples,  chiefly  from  the  pupils 
of  the  Polytechnic  School,  ardent  and  lively  young 
men,  full  of  enthusiasm,  brought  up  without  faith 
in  the  Gospel,  and  yet  unable  to  live  without  religion 
of  some  sort.  Among  the  active  members  of  the 
sect  were  at  one  time  Pierre  Leroux,  Jules  and 
Michel  Chevalier,  Lerminier,  my  personal  friend.  Dr. 
Poyen,  who  initiated  me  and  so  many  others  in  New 
England  into  the  mysteries  of  Animal  Magnetism. 


i  1 


;. 


^ii 


152 


TIIK    COXVEKT. 


I  i 


Dr.  Poyen  was^  I  believe,  a  native  of  the  island  of 
Guadeloupe,  a  man  of  more  ability  than  be  usually 
bad  credit  for,  of  solid  learning,  genuine  science, 
and  honest  intentions.  1  knew  him  well,  and 
esteemed  him  highly.  When  I  knew  him,  his  at- 
tachment to  the  new  religion  was  much  weakened ; 
and  he  often  talked  to  me  of  the  old  Church,  and 
assured  me  that  he  felt  at  times  that  he  must  return 
to  her  bosom.  I  owe  him  many  hints  which  turned 
my  thoughts  towards  Catholic  principles,  and  which, 
with  God's  grace,  were  of  much  service  to  me. 
Tliese  and  many  others  were  in  the  sect,  whose 
chiefs,  after  the  death  of  its  founder,  were  Bazard,  n. 
Liberal,  and  a  practical  man,  who  killed  himself,  and 
Knfantin,  who,  after  the  dissolution  of  the  sect, 
sought  employment  in  the  service  of  the  Viceroy  of 
Egypt,  and  occupies  now  some  important  post  in 
connection  with  the  French  railways. 

The  sect  began  in  1826,  by  addressing  the  work- 
ing classes,  but  their  success  was  small.  In  1829 
they  came  out  of  their  narrow  circle,  assumed  a 
bolder  tone,  addressed  themselves  to  the  general 
public,  and  became  in  less  than  eighteen  months  a 
Parisian  mode.  In  1831  they  purchased  the  Globe 
newspaper,  made  it  their  organ,  and  distributed 
gratuitously  five  thousand  copies  daily.  In  1832 
they  had  established  a  central  propagandism  in 
Paris,  and  had  their  missionaries  in  most  of  the 
departments  of  France.  They  attacked  the  here- 
ditary peerage,  and  it  fellj  they  seemed  to  be 
numerous  and  strong,  and  I  believed  for  a  moment 


SAINT-SIMONISM. 


153 


in  their  complete  success.  They  called  their  doctrine 
a  religion^  their  ministers,  priests,  and  their  organi- 
zation, a  church ;  and  as  such  they  claimed  to  be 
recognized  by  the  State,  and  to  receive  from  it  a 
subvention  as  other  religious  denominations.  But 
the  courts  decided  that  Saiut-Simonism  was  not  a 
religion,  and  its  ministers  were  not  religious  teachers. 
This  decision  struck  them  with  death.  Their  prestige 
vanished.  They  scattered,  dissolved  in  thin  air,  and 
went  off,  as  Carlyle  would  say,  into  endless  vacuity, 
as  do,  sooner  or  later,  all  shams  and  unrealities. 

Saint-Simon  himself,  who,  as  presented  to  us  by 
his  disciples,  is  a  half  mythic  personage,  seems,  so 
far  as  I  can  judge  by  those  of  his  writings  that  I 
have  seen,  to  have  been  a  man  of  large  ability  and 
laudable  intentions )  but  I  have  not  been  able  to  find 
any  new  or  original  thoughts  of  which  he  was  the 
indisputable  father.  His  whole  system,  if  system 
he  had,  is  summed  up  in  the  two  maxims :  '^  Eden 
is  before  us,  not  behind  us,"  or  the  golden  age  of 
the  poets  is  in  thq  future,  not  in  the  past ;  and, 
*^  Society  ought  to  be  so  organized  as  to  tend  in  the 
most  rapid  manner  possible  to  the  continuous  moral, 
intellectual,  and  physical  amelioration  of  the  poorer 
and  more  numerous  classes."  He  simply  adopts  the 
doctrine  of  progress  set  forth  with  so  much  flash 
eloquence  by  Condorcet;  and  the  philanthropic  doc- 
trine with  regard  to  the  laboring  classes,  or  the  people, 
defended  by  Barbeuf,  and  a  large  section  of  the 
French  Revolutionists.  His  religion  was  not  so 
much  as    the    Theophilanthropy    attempted    to   be 


164 


TH£  COMVEBT. 


\l\ 


introduodd  by  «ome  members  of  the  French  Diroo* 
tory.  It  admitted  God  in  name,  and  in  name 
did  not  deny  Jesus  Christ,  but  it  rejected  all 
mysteries,  and  reduced  religion  to  mere  socialism. 
It  conceded  that  Catholicity  had  been  the  true 
Church  down  to  the  Pontificate  of  Leo  X,  because, 
down  to  that  time  its  ministers  had  t^ken  the  lead 
in  directing  the  intelligence  and  labors  of  mankind, 
had  aided  the  progress  of  civilization,  and  promoted 
the  well-being  of  the  poorer  and  more  numerous 
classes.  But  since  Lieo  X,  who  made  of  the  Papacy 
a  secular  principality,  it  had  neglected  its  mission, 
had  ceased  to  labor  for  the  poorer  and  more  numer- 
ous classes,  had  leagued  itself  with  the  ruling 
orders,  and  lent  all  its  influence  to  uphold  tyrants 
and  tyranny.  A  new  church  was  needed, — ^a  church 
which  should  realize  the  ideal  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
tend  directly  and  constantly  to  the  moral,  physical, 
and  social  amelioration  of  the  poorer  and  more 
numerous  classes ;  in  other  words,  the  greatest  hap- 
piness in  this  life  of  the  greatest  number :  the  princi- 
ple of  Jeremy  Bentham  and  his  Utilitaiian  school. 

Bis  disciples  enlarged  upon  the  hints  of  the 
master,  and  attributed  to  him  ideas  which  he  never 
entertained.  They  endeavored  to  reduce  his  hints 
to  a  complete  system  of  religion,  philosophy,  and 
social  organization.  Their  chiefs,  I  have  said,  were 
Bazard  and  En£ftntin.  Amand  Bazard  was  born  iu 
Paris  in  1791,  and  at  the  age  of  twenty-two  married 
the  daughter  of  Joubert  the  Conventionalist.  He 
was  a  rigid  republican,   and  the  principal  founder 


8A1NT-8IMONI8M. 


loo 


of  the  French  Carbonari.  He  held  an  eminent  rank 
in  the  French  secret  societies,  was  Venerable  of  the 
Lodge  of  the  Amis  de  la  V^rit^,  and  after  the  foun- 
dation of  the  Carbonari  was  President  of  the  Haute 
Vente,  and  of  the  Vente  Supreme,  and  most  of  the 
orders  circulated  in  the  association  were  from  him. 
He  was  the  life  and  soul  of  nearly  all  the  move 
ments,  plots,  and  conspiracies  in  behalf  of  republi 
canism  under  the  Restoration.  He  was  in  those 
times,  though  less  before  the  public,  very  much 
what  Mazzini  is  in  ours.  In  October,  1825  be 
became  acquainted  with  the  little  band  of  disciples 
left  by  Saint-Simon,  and  joined  himself  to  them,  and 
was  the  ablest  and  most  competent  man,  so  far  as 
it  regards  external  organization  and  direction,  the 
sect  ever  had.  He  was  a  politician,  a  revolutionist, 
and  stamped  his  own  character  on  the  school. 

Barthelemy  Prospei*  Enfantin,  the  son  of  a  banker, 
born  at  Paris  1796,  was  a  man  of  a  different  stamp, 
better  fitted  for  thinking,  or  rather  dreaming,  than 
acting.  Hazard  evidently  adopted  Saint-Simonisiu 
as  an  instrument  to  be  used,  or  as  an  engine 
which  he  hoped  to  use  in  accomplishing,  his  own 
political  and  social  purposes;  Enfantin  appears  to 
have  really  believed  in  the  mission  of  his  master, 
and  to  have  entered  sincerely,  with  all  his  soul,  into 
his  new  religion.  He  was  endowed  with  rare  philo- 
sophical genius,  was  of  a  contemplative  turn  of 
mind,  and  of  great  natural  religious  fervor.  He  was 
firm,  conscientious,  and  would,  for  no  prospect  of 
gain  or  the  success  of  his  sect,  make  the  slightest 


ll 


156 


THE  CONVERT. 


compromise  of  principle,  or  sacrifice  a  single  iota 
of  what  he  held  to  be  right.  Had  he  been  a  Cath- 
olic, he  would  have  suffered  martyrdom,  or  been  a 
saint,  whom  the  faithful  would  have  delighted  to 
hold  in  honor  through  all  ages.  As  it  was,  he  was 
too  scrupulous  to  make  the  compromises  necessary 
for  success  in  a  scheme  that  could  not  afford  to  be 
honest;  and  the-  larger  portion  of  his  associates 
regarded  him  as  a  bigot,  a  fanatic,  and  laid  the 
blame  of  their  divisions  and  failures  to  his  obsti- 
nacy ;  to  what  I  should  call  his  sincerity,  firmness, 
and  consistency. 

These  two  men  elaborated  the  Saint-Simonian 
doctrine  and  the  Saint-Simonian  religion.  Bazard 
took  the  lead  in  what  related  to  the  external,  politi- 
cal, and  economical  organization  ;  and  Enfantin,  in 
what  regarded  doctrine  and  worship.  The  philo- 
sophy or  theology  of  the  sect  or  school  was  derived 
principally  from  Hegel,  and  was  a  refined  Pan- 
theism. Its  Christology  was  the  unity,  not  union, 
of  the  Divine  and  human ;  and  the  Incarnation 
symbolized  the  unity  of  God  and  man,  or  the  Di- 
vinity manifesting  himself  in  humanity,  and  making 
humanity  substantially  divine :  the  very  doctrine^ 
in  reality,  which  I  myself  had  embraced,  even 
before  I  had  heard  of  the  Saint-Simonians,  if  not 
before  they  had  published  it.  The  religious  organ- 
ization was  founded  on  the  doctrine  of  the  pro- 
gressive nature  of  man,  and  the  maxim  that  all 
institutions  should  tend,  in  the  most  speedy  and 
direct  manner  possible,  to  the  constant  amelioration 


SAINT-8IMON18M. 


15; 


of  the  moral,  intellectual,  and  physical  condition  of 
the  poorer  and  more  numerous  classes.  Socially, 
men  were  to  be  divided  into  three  classes,  artists, 
savanSf  and  industrials,  or  working  men,  corre- 
sponding to  the  psychological  division  of  the  human 
i'aculties.  The  soul  has  three  powers  or  faculties : 
tu  love,  to  know,  and  to  act.  Those  in  whom  tlio 
love* faculty  is  predominant,  belong  to  the  class  of 
artists  ]  those  in  whom  the  knowledge-faculty  U 
predominant,  belong  to  the  class  of  savanSy  the  scien- 
tific and  the  learned  ;  and,  in  fine,  those  in  whom  the 
act-faculty  predominates,  belong  to  the  industrial 
class,  l^his  classification  places  every  man  in  the 
social  category  for  which  he  is  fitted,  and  to  which 
he  is  attracted  by  his  nature.  These  several  classes 
are  to  be  hierarchically  organized,  under  chiefs 
or  priests,  who  are  respectively  priests  of  the 
artists,  of  the  scientific,  and  of  the  industrials,  and 
are,  priests  and  all,  to  be  subjected  to  a  Supreme 
Father,  Pdre  SuprSmCf  and  a  Supreme  Mother,  M^re 
Supreme, 

The  economical  organization  is  to  be  based  on 
the  maxims,  ^^  To  each  one  according  to  his  ca- 
pacity," and,  "To  each  capacity  according  to  its 
work."  Private  property  is  to  be  retained,  but  its 
transmission  by  inheritance  or  testamentary  dis- 
position must  be  abolished.  The  property  is  to  be 
held  by  a  tenure  resembling  that  of  gavelkind.  It 
belongs  to  the  community,  and  the  priests,  chiefs, 
or  brehons,  as  the  Celtic  tribes  c^l  them,  to  dis- 
tribute  it   for    life    to   individuals,   and   "  to   each 


158 


THE   CONVERT. 


individual  according  to  his  capacity.*'  It  was  sup. 
posed  that  in  tliis  way  the  advantages  of  both 
common  and  individual  property  might  be  secured 
Something  of  this  prevailed  originally  in  most  na> 
tions;  and  a  reminiscence  of  it  still  exists  in  the 
village  system  among  the  Sklavonic  tribes  of  Russia 
and  Poland ;  and  nearly  all  jurists  maintain  that  the 
testamentary  right,  by  which  a  man  disposes  of  his 
goods  after  his  natural  death,  as  well  as  that  by 
which  a  child  inherits  from  the  parent,  is  a  mu> 
nicipal,  not  a  natural  right. 

The  most  striking  feature  in  the  Saint-Simonian 
scheme  was  the  rank  and  position  it  assigned  to 
woman.  It  asserted  the  absolute  equality  of  the 
sexes,  and  maintained  that  either  sex  is  incomplete 
without  the  other.  Man  is  an  incomplete  individual 
without  woman.  Hence  a  religion,  a  doctrine,  a 
social  institution,  founded  by  one  sex  alone,  is  in- 
complete, and  can  never  be  adequate  to  the  wants 
of  the  race  or  a  definitive  order.  This  idea  was  also 
entertained  by  Frances  Wright,  and  appears  to  be 
entertained  by  all  our  Women's  Rights  folk  of  either 
sex.  The  old  civilization  was  masculine,  not  male  and 
female  as  God  made  man.  Hence  its  condemnation. 
The  Saint-Simonians,  therefore,  proposed  to  place  by 
the  side  of  their  sovereign  Father,  at  the  summit  oi 
their  hierarchy,  a  sovereign  Mother.  The  man  to  be 
sovereign  Father  they  found,  but  a  woman  to  be 
sovereign  Mother,  Mkre  Suprime^  they  found  not. 
This  caused  great  embarrassment,  and  a  split  between 
Bazard  and  £nfantin.     Bazard  was  about  marrying 


8AINT-SIMCNISM. 


159 


his  daughter,  and  he  proposed  to  place  her  marriage 
under  the  protection  of  the  existing  French  laws. 
Enfantin  opposed  his  doing  so,  and  called  it  a  sinful 
compliance  with  the  prejudices  of  the  world.  The 
Saint-8imonian  Society,  he  maintained,  was  a  state, 
a  kingdom  within  itself,  and  should  ho  governed  by 
its  own  laws  and  its  own  chiefs  without  any  recogni- 
tion of  those  without.  Bazard  persisted,  and  had 
the  marriage  of  his  daughter  solemnized  in  a  legal 
manner,  and  for  aught  I  know,  according  to  the 
rites  of  the  Church.  i^  great  scandal  followed. 
Bazard  charged  Enfantin  with  denying  Christian 
marriage,  and  with  holding  loose  notions  on  the 
subject.  Enfantin  replied  that  he  neither  denied  nor 
affirmed  Christian  marriage ;  that,  in  enacting  the 
existing  law  on  the  subject,  man  alone  had  been 
consulted,  and  he  could  not  recognize  it  as  law  till 
woman  had  given  her  consent  to  it.  As  yet  the 
society  was  only  provisionally  organized,  inasmuch 
as  they  had  not  yet  found  the  Mere  SuprSme,  The 
law  on  marriage  must  emanate  conjointly  from  the 
Supreme  Father  and  the  Supreme  Mother,  and  it 
would  be  irregular  and  a  usurpation  for  the  Supreme 
Father  to  undertake  alone  to  legislate  on  the  sub- 
ject. Bazard  would  not  submit,  and  went  out  and 
shot  himself.  Most  of  the  politicians  abandoned  the 
association,  and  Pere  Enfantin,  almost  in  despair, 
despatched  twelve  apostles  to  Constantinople  to  find 
in  the  Turkish  harems  the  Supreme  Mother.  After 
a  year  they  returned  and  reported  that  they  were  un- 
able to  find  her ;  and  the  society,  condemned  by  the 


11 


a 


160 


THE   CONVERT. 


French  courts  as  immoral,  broke  up — ^and  broke  up 
because  no  woman  could  be  found  to  be  its  mother : 
and  so  they  ended,  having  risen,  flourished,  anr)  de- 
cayed in  less  than  a  single  decade. 

The  points  in  the  Saint-Simonian  movement  that 
arrested  my  attention,  and  commanded  my  belief, 
were  what  it  will  seem  gtrange  to  my  readers  could 
ever  have  been  doubted, — its  assertion  of  a  religious 
future  for  the  human  race ;  and  that  religion,  in  the 
future  as  well  as  in  the  past,  must  have  an  organiza- 
tion, and  a  hierarchical  organization.  Its  classification 
of  men  according  to  the  predominant  psychological 
faculty  in  each,  into  artists,  savans,  and  industrials, 
struck  me  as  very  well ;  and  the  maxims,  *'  To  each 
according  to  his  capacity,"  and,  ^*-To  each  capacity 
according  to  its  works,"  as  evidently  just,  and  desir- 
able, if  practicable.  The  doctrine  of  the  Divinity  in 
humanity,  of  progress,  of  no  essential  antagonism 
between  the  spiritual  and  the  material,  and  of  the 
duty  of  shaping  all  institutions  for  the  speediest  and 
continuous  moral,  •! telle ctual,  and  physical  ameliora- 
tion of  the  poorer  and  more  numerous  classes,  I 
already  held.  I  was  rather  pleased  than  otherwise 
with  the  doctrine  with  regard  to  property,  and  thought 
it  a  decided  improvement  on  that  of  a  community 
of  goods.  The  doctrine  with  regard  to  the  relation 
of  the  sexes,  I  rather  acquiesced  in  than  approved. 
I  was  disposed  to  maintain,  as  the  Indian  said,  that 
*^  woman  is  the  weaker  canoe,"  and  to  assert  my 
marital  prerogatives ;  but  the  equality  of  the  sexes 
was  asserted  by  nearly  all  my  friends,  and  I  remained 


SA  INT-SIM' .NISM. 


IGl 


generally  silent  on  the  subject,  till  some  of  the  ad- 
mirers of  Harriet  Martineau  and  of  Margaret  Fuller 
began  to  scorn  equality,  and  to  claim  for  woman 
superiority.  Then  I  became  roused,  and  ventured 
to  assert  my  masculine  dignity. 

It  is  remarkable  that  most  reformers  find  fault 
with  the  Christian  law  of  marriage,  and  propose  to 
alter  the  relations  which  God  has  established  both  in 
nature  and  the  Gospel  between  the  sexes ;  and  this  is 
generally  the  rock  on  which  they  split.  Women  do 
not  usually  admire  men  who  cast  off  their  manhood, 
or  are  unconscious  of  the  rights  and  prerogatives  of 
the  stronger  sex ;  and  they  admire  just  as  little  those 
"  strong-minded  women,"  who  strive  to  excel  only 
in  the  masculine  virtues.  I  have  never  been  per- 
suaded that  it  argues  well  for  a  people  when  its 
women  are  men,  and  its  men  women.  Yet,  I  trust  I 
have  always  honored,  and  always  shall  honor,  woman. 
I  raise  no  question  as  to  woman^s  equality  or  in- 
equality with  man,  for  comparisons  cannot  be  made 
between  things  not  of  the  same  kind.  Woman's 
sphere  and  office  in  life  are  as  high,  as  holy,  as 
important  as  man's,  but  different ;  and  the  glory  of 
both  man  and  woman  is,  for  each  to  act  well  the  part 
assigned  to  each  by  Almighty  God. 

The  Saint-Simonian  writings  made  me  familiar 
with  the  idea  of  a  hierarchy,  and  removed  from  my 
mind  the  prejudices  against  the  Papacy  generally 
entertained  by  my  countrymen.  Their  proposed 
organization  I  saw  might  be  good  and  desirable,  if 
their   priests,    their  supreme    Father  and   Mother, 


If 


■ 


102 


f^ 


THE   COXVKKT. 


could  really  be  the  wisest,  the  best — not  merely  the 
nominal,  but  the  real  chiefs  of  society.  Yet  what 
security  have  I  that  they  wiU  be  I  Their  power 
was  to  have  no  limit  save  their  own  wisdom  and  love : 
but  who  would  answer  for  it  that  these  would  always 
be  an  effectual  limit?  How  were  these  priests  or 
chiefs  to  be  designated  and  installed  in  their  office  f. 
By  popular  election?  But  popular  election  often 
passes  over  the  proper  man,  and  takes  the  improper. 
Then  as  to  the  assignment  to  each  man  of  a  capita 
proportioned  to  his  capacity  to  begin  life  with,  what 
certainty  is  there  that  the  rules  of  strict  right  will 
be  followed  ?  that  wrong  will  not  often  be  done  both 
voluntarily  and  involuntarily  ?  Are  your  chiefs  to 
be  infallible  and  impeccable  ?  Still  the  movement 
interested  me,  and  many  of  its  principles  took  firm 
hold  oi'  me,  and  held  me  for  3'ears  in  a  species  of 
mental  thraldom,  inasmuch  as  I  found  it  difficult,  if 
not  impossible,  either  to  refute  them  or  to  harmonize 
them  with  other  principles  which  I  also  held,  or, 
rather,  which  held  me,  and  in  which  I  detected  no 
unsoundness.  Yet  I  imbibed  no  errors  from  the 
Saint-Simonians,  and  I  can  say  of  them  as  of  the 
Unitarians,  they  did  me  no  harm,  but  were,  in  my 
fallen  state,  the  occasion  of  much  good  to  me. 


I 


CHAPTER  XII. 


HORRIBLE   DOCTRINES. 


The  Saint-Simonians  asserted  a  new  Christianity. 
I  held  that  their  new  Christianity  was  not  new,  and 
that  it  was  only  a  just  interpretation  of  the  old 
Christianity  as  it  lay  in  the  mind  of  its  Author. 
This  was  my  chief  point  of  difference  with  them. 
They  asserted  a  religious  future  for  mankind,  and 
BO  did  I.  They  asserted  the  necessity  of  a  new 
religious  institution  or  organization  of  society,  and 
so  did  I.  They  maintained  that  the  object  or  end 
of  this  new  institution  should  be  the  amelioration, 
moral,  intellectual,  and  physical,  of  the  poorer  and 
more  numerous  classes,  or  the  creation  of  a  heaven 
upon  earth  for  all  men,  ard  so  did  I.  But,  as  to 
the  practical  means  of  realizing  this  end,  1  had  my 
doubts  and  misgivings. 

I  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  ameliora- 
tion of  the  laboring  classes  could  not  be  effected  by 
themselves  alone,  or  by  appealing  solely  to  them. 
It  could  be  effected  only  by  the  cooperation  of  all 
classes  of  society,  or,  as  I  said,  not  without  a  slight 
touch  of  mysticism  in  my  thought,  the  cooperation 
of  the  race.  The  organization  of  the  race  in  a 
manner  to  secure  this  end,  was  what  1  meant  by 
the  new  church. 


164 


THE   CONVERT. 


The  Christian  thought,  as  it  existed  in  the  mind 
of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  I  maintained,  was  coincident 
with  Democracy.  His  kingdom  was  to  be  set  up  in 
this  world ;  his  mission  was  to  establish  the  reign  of 
justice  and  love  on  the  earth.  He  claimed  to 
have  come  from  God,  because  his  mission  was  to  the 
poor  and  oppressed.  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord,"  he 
said,  "  is  upon  me,  because  he  hath  anointed  me  to 
preach  glad  tidings  to  the  poor,  to  heal  them  that 
are  bruised,  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  set 
the  captives  free."  To  the  disciples  of  John  the 
Baptist,  sent  to  ask  him  whether  he  was  the  Meosips 
promised,  or  whether  they  were  to  look  for  another, 
he  said :  "  Go  tell  your  master^  the  poor  have  the 
Gospel  preached  unto  them."  He  declared  the 
poor  blessed,  heirs  of  his  kingdom,  and  pronounced 
a  woe  upon  the  rich,  declaring  it  "easier  for  a 
camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  than  ibr  a 
rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  He 
rebuked  all  cant,  sham,  or  make-believe  goodness, 
and  declared  to  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  the 
saints  of  his  day,  that  publicans  and  harlots  would 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  before  them.  He 
discarded  all  the  titles  and  distinctions  created  by 
human  pride  and  vanity,  recognized  no  earth-born 
nobilities,  no  pomp  of  rank  or  earthly  majesty,  but 
looked  on  simple  naked  humanity,  and  accepted  and 
honored  man  for  his  real  or  intrinsic  worth.  He 
loved  man  as  man,  and  died  for  his  redemption. 
The  great  law  of  his  religion  was  love  of  man. 
''  By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my  disci- 


IIOKRIRLE   DOCTltINP:S. 


1G5 


>tion. 

man. 

Idisci- 


ples,  if  ye  love  one  another.^  *^  A  new  command- 
ment give  I  unto  you,  that  ye  love  one  another." 
**We  know,"  said  his  beloved  disciple,  "that  we 
have  passed  from  death  unto  life,  because  we  love 
the  brethren."  Nor  was  this  love  to  be  confined  to 
one's  own  family,  friends,  or  nation.  We  were  to 
love  our  enemies,  and  bless  them  that  curse  us,  do 
good  to  them  that  hate  us.  We  must  love  our 
neighbor  as  ourselves,  and  count  every  man  our 
neighbor  to  whom  we  can  be  of  service,  as  was  the 
Samaritan  to  the  Jew  who  fell  among  thieves. 
Jesus  proclaimed  the  worth  of  man  as  man,  taught 
the  great  law  of  love,  and  proposed  the  universal 
brotherhood  of  the  race, — Liberty,  Equality,  Frater- 
nity :  the  noble  device  of  tlie  Democratic  banner. 

Here  was  that  Christian  Democracy,  as  I  called 
it,  which  constituted  the  substance  of  my  preaching 
for  ten  or  eleven  years.  I  was  not  alone  in  this.  Jt 
was  substantially  the  doctrine  of  Dr.  Channing,  and 
that  section  of  the  Unitarians  that  took  him  for  their 
leader;  and  it  was  held  more  or  less  distinctly  by 
the  whole  movement  party  of  the  time,  in  both 
Europe  and  America.  It  had  a  powerful  champion 
in  the  unhappy  Abbe  de  Lamennais,  both  before 
and  after  his  excommunication  by  Gregory  XVJ, 
and  was  maintained  by  all  the  leading  Liberals  of 
the  European  continent.  Indeed,  it  had  penetrated 
very  widely  even  into  the  Catholic  camp,  and  in 
1848  we  found  in  France  even  priests  ready  to  assert 
the  identity  of  Democracy  and  Christianity  j  and 
some,  I  believe,  we  t  so  far  as  to  call  our  blessed 


-> 


166 


THE   CONVERT. 


It 


Lord  the  first  Democrat,  as  in  the  old  French 
Revolution  individuals  were  found  to  call  him  the 
great  Sans  Calotte,  and  to  speak  of  him  as  "le 
Citoyen  Christ.'^  Even  the  pious  and  philosophical 
Kosmini  seemed,  in  his  work  on  the  Five  Wounds  of 
the  Church,  to  look  towards  itj  and  many  of  the 
Italian  clergy  who  favored  the  Republican  Revo- 
lution which  compelled  the  flight  of  the  Holy  Father 
from  Rome  to  Gaeta,  held  it.  It  can  be  detected, 
in  some  of  its  phases,  in  Padre  Ventura's  famous 
Funeral  Oration  on  Daniel  O'Connell.  It  is,  as  the 
Cardinal  Archbishop  of  Rheims  has  well  remarked, 
"  the  great  heresy  of  the  nineteenth  century/'  It 
is  not  singular,  then,  that  I,  believing  in  progress, 
and  therefore  regarding  the  latest  thought  as  the 
truest  and  best,  should  have  adopted  it. 

The  doctrine,  moreover,  is  not  without  its  side  of 
truth,  especially  as  I  defended  it.     Democracy,  in 

the  sense  I  defined  and  defended  it,  regarded  the 

end   for   which   government   should  be  constituted 

and  administered,  rather  than  the  origin  and  form 

of  the  government  itself.     I  never  myself  held  the 

doctrine  of  the  native  underived  sovereignty  of  the 

people.     When  I  believed  in  no  God,  I  believed  in 

no  government ;  for  I  could  never  understand  why 

the  people  collectively  should  not  be  under  law  as 

well   as   the    people    distributively.     I  always  said 

with  St.  Paul,  Non  est  potestas  nisi  a  Deo,     When  I 

renounced  my  atheism,  I  derived  all  power  from  God, 

the  source  of  all  law  and  of  all  justice.     I  might, 

and  probably  did,  even  as  I  do  now,  derive  it  from 


HORRIBLE   DOCTRINES. 


ie\ 


God  througn  the  people,  as  the  medial  origin  of 
government,  and  thus  accept  Mr.  Bancroft's  defi- 
nition, that  "Democracy  is  eternal  justice  ruling 
through  the  people  ;  "  but  the  popular  doctrine  which 
puts  the  people  in  the  place  of  God,  and  asserts  not 
only  people-king,  but  people-God,  I  never  held,  and 
it  is  one  of  the  few  errors  of  my  times  into  which  I 
have  never  fallen.  I  had  to  combat  the  people  too 
often.  I  had  to  make  too  frequent  war  on  popular 
prejudice  and  popular  errors,  to  believe  that  what- 
ever is  popular  is  true,  right,  and  just.  I  had  found 
majorities  too  often  in  the  wrong,  to  believe  them 
either  infallible  or  impeccable.  Did  not  the  people, 
the  majority,  condemn  Socrates  to  drink  hemlock  ? 
Did  not  the  people  cry  out  against  One  greater  tlian 
Socrates,  "  Crucify  him,  crucify  him  "  ?  And  did  not 
the  majority  actually  crucify  him  between  two 
thieves  ? 

But  Democracy  as  designating  the  end  of  govern- 
ment, I  did  hold  ;  that  is,  I  held  that  government 
should  be  constituted  and  administered  for  the  com- 
mon good  of  the  governed  as  men,  irrespective  of 
the  accidents  of  rank,  birth,  position,  or  condition. 
This  I  held,  and  hold  still.  This  is  the  simple 
dictate  of  reason  or  the  law  of  nature,  and  is  the 
common  doctrine  of  all  the  doctors  of  the  Church  in 
all  ages  and  nations.  All  governments  not  consti- 
tuted and  administered  for  the  common  good  of  the 
governed,  are  illegitimate,  whatever  their  form  or 
historical  origin,  and  are  unable  to  bind  the  con- 
sciences of  their  subjects.     Hence,  the  Church  has 


if 


1G8 


THE   CONVERT. 


always  inclined  to  the  side  of  the  poorer  and  more 
numerous  classes^  and  has  always  treated  with  dis- 
favor, and  in  her  own  sphere  has  never  recognized, 
the  privileges  and  privileged  orders  introduced  and 
sustained  by  the  feudal  system.  She  treats  men  as 
men,  and  admits,  in  her  dealing  with  them,  no 
noble  or  ignoble  classes.  She  has  one  law  of  justice, 
one  and  the  same  office  and  discipline  for  the  prince 
and  the  peasant,  the  noble  and  the  plebeian,  the 
lord  and  the  vassal,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the 
master  and  the  slave.  In  this  sense,  the  Church, 
Christianity,  is  democratic,  and  the  law  of  nature, 
also,  is  democratic ;  and  it  was  in  this  sense  that  I 
defined  Democracy  to  be  "the  supremacy  of  man 
over  his  accidents : "  that  is,  it  imposes  on  govern- 
ment the  obligation  to  consult  the  good  of  man  as 
man,  irrespective  of  the  accidepts  of  birth,  wealth, 
rank,  position,  or  condition. 

In  this  sense  only  did  I  ever  profess  to  be  a 
Democrat,  and  in  this  sense  I  am  a  Democrat  now, 
though  I  dislike  the  term,  and  disclaimed  it  as  long 
ago  as  1841.  The  proper  term  is  reptMican,  which 
designates  any  government,  whatever  its  form,  that 
is  constituted  and  administered  in  sole  reference  to 
the  public  good,  or  the  good  of  the  governed  in 
distinction  from  the  private  good  of  the  governors. 
Whether  the  democratic  form,  such  as  is  demanded 
by  modern  Liberals  and  Revolutionists,  be  or  be  noi 
the  form  best  adapted  to  secure  the  public  good,  is 
an  open  question,  which  admits  of  much  being  said 
on  both  sides.     Probably,  there  are  no  two  countries 


IIORKIDLK    DOCTKIXKS. 


1G9 


>e  a 

lOW, 


in  Cliristendom  so  little  favorable  to  the  poorer 
and  more  numerous  classes,  or  in  wliich  wealth  has 
so  much  influence,  and  it  is  so  great  a  misfortune  to 
be  poor,  as  Great  Britain  and  the  United  S'atca. 
They  dj  not,  as  the  ancient  heathen  nations  did,  * 
actually  kill  their  poor  or  sell  them  into  slavery,  but 
they  despise,  abhor  them,  shut  them  up  in  work- 
houses, and  treat  them  as  criminals.  Democratic, 
or  democratically-inclined,  governments  are  for  the 
most  part  cruel  and  hard-hearted.  Like  corpora- 
tions, they  have  no  souls,  and  are  incapable  of  tender- 
ness. They  have  their  advantages,  but  also  their 
disadvantages,  and  probably  are  less  favorable  to 
public  prosperity  than  is  commonly  imagined. 

I  found  my  countrymen  attached  to  Democracy 
in  the  sense  that  the  people  are  the  original  source 
of  all  power,  sovereign,  as  The  Democratic  Beview 
expressed  it,  "  in  their  own  native  might  and  right." 
In  this  sense,  Democracy  has  its  expression  in 
universal  suffrage  and  eligibility.  But  in  this  sense, 
I  said,  it  is  a  bitter  mockery,  if  the  people  are  not 
practically  equal  as  individuals.  Political  equality 
may  be  a  blessed  thing ;  but,  to  be  real,  anything 
more  than  a  delusion,  it  must  rest  for  its  basis  on 
social  equality :  equality  in  wealth,  position,  edu- 
cation, ability,  influence.  Man  against  man  and 
money  is  not  an  equal  match.  Man  ignorant,  rude, 
uncultivated,  cannot  enter  into  the  political  contest 
on  equal  terms  with  the  educated,  the  cultivated 
man,  with  all  the  advantages  society  can  give  him. 
How  pretend  that  you  and  I  are  equal,  when  you 

8 


■  i  tii 


170 


THE   CONVERT. 


}    ■•   :  t 


can  influence  a  thousand  votes,  while  I  can  hardly 
control  my  own,  unless  I  have  the  spirit  of  a 
martyr  T  The  immense  majority  of  American  voters 
vote  with  no  real  will  or  independence  of  their  own. 
A  few  individuals  contrive  to  manage  the  people^ 
and  some  two  or  three  hundred  more  determine 
even  our  national  elections,  and  the  politics  of  the 
country. 

If,  then,  you  will  have  Democracy,  if  you  insist 
on  the  Democratic  form,  have  the  courage  to  go 
farther,  and  the  good-sense  to  adopt  the  measures 
necessary  to  prevent  your  universal  suffrage  and 
.  eligibility  from  being  a  mere  sham.  You  must  do 
more  than  you  have  done ;  you  must  establish  and 
maintain  the  substantial  equality  of  conditions,  so  that 
not  merely  the  rights^  but  the  mights^  of  men  shall 
be  equal.  With  this  thought,  I  wrote  and  published 
in  my  Review  for  July,  1840,  an  essay  on  the  Labor- 
ing Classes,  which  had  a  louder  echo  than  I  had 
counted  on.  It  was  published  during  the  heat  of 
the  presidential  electioneering  campaign,  and  I  was 
regarded  at  that  time  as  a  prominent  member  of  the 
Democratic  party.  The  Whig,  or  opposing  party, 
seized  it,  reprinted  it,  and  circulated  it  by  thousands, 
if  not  by  hundreds  of  thousands,  for  the  purpose 
of  damaging  the  party  with  which  I  was  connected. 
I  was  denounced  in  the  press,  from  the  pulpit 
and  the  rostrum.  My  friends  shook  their  heads, 
and  were  very  sorry  that  I  had  been  so  imprudent ; 
and  not  a  voice  was  raised  in  my  defence,  or  in 
mitigation  of  the  censure  with  which  I  was  visited. 


HORRIBLE   DOCTRINES. 


171 


The  Democratic  journals  threw  me  -  overboard,  and 
defended  themselves  as  well  as  they  could,  by  dis- 
owning me,  and  declaring  it  unfair  and  unjust  t(> 
hold  the  party  responsible  for  my  eccentricities  and 
extravagances. 

The  doctrines  of  my  essay  were  received  by  my 
countrymen  with  one  universal  scream  of  horror, 
partly  affected,  no  doubt,  for  party  purposes,  but 
partly  real  and  sincere.  There  was  no  question  that 
1  had  gone  beyond  the  point  the  public  could  be  in- 
duced to  go  with  me.  Yet  I  had  only  drawn  from 
the  Democratic  and  Protestant  principles,  which  I 
had  ne.ver  heard  questioned  from  my  youth  up,  their 
legitimate  consequences  j  I  had  only  drawn  from  the 
premises  supplied  by  the  dominant  public  opinion, 
tiieir  strictly  logical  conclusions.  I  felt  the  blame,  if 
blame  there  was  in  the  case,  was  not  mine.  If  my 
Protestant  and  Democratic  countrymen  said,  "  Two 
and  two,"  wherefore  could  it  be  wrong  for  me  to  add, 
**  make  four ''  f  With  Protestantism  I  denied  the 
Church  and  the  priesthood  ;  and  with  the  Democracy 
I  denied  the  distinction  of  classes,  of  castes,  of  noble 
and  ignoble,  and  asserted  the  political  equality  of  all 
men.  I  added  only  a  change  in  the  transmission  and 
distribution  of  property  to  the  new  generation, 
necessary  to  render  political  equality  a  practical  fact, 
a  reality,  not  an  illusion.  What  sin  against  either 
had  I  committed  ? 

The  essay  was  an  honest,  undisguised,  fearless, 
and  not  ineloquent  expression  of  thoughts  which  had 
been  fermenting  in  my  mind,  and  pressing  for  years 


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172 


THK   CONVERT. 


m 


for  utterance.  In  it  I  poured  out  my  soul,  such  as 
it  wiiHy  and  kept  notliing  back.  I  made  my  confes' 
sioii  to  the  world,  a  cKs'in  breast  of  it ;  and  I  tliink  my 
convalescence  dates  t'roni  that  moment.  But  I  can 
hardly  read  the  essay  over  without  being  myself 
shocked,  and  wondering  at  my  temerity  in  publishing 
it.  Yet  never  did  I  speak  more  truly  my  honest 
thought,  or  more  consistently  with  myself.  Place 
me  where  I  stood  then ;  place  me  outside  of  the 
Catholic  Churchy  and  make  me  regard  that  Church 
as  exclusive,  as  a  spiritual  tyranny,  as  all  my 
Protestant  countrymen  maintain  she  is,  and  give  me 
faith  only  in  progress  by  the  natural  forces  of  man^ 
and  I  would  to-day  repeat  and  indorse  every 
paragraph  and  every  word  I  then  wrote. 

**  Mankind,"  I  wrote,  **  came  out  of  the  savage 
state  by  means  of  the  priests.  Priests  are  the  firs| 
civilizers  of  the  race.  For  the  wild  freedom  of  the 
savage,  they  substitute  the  iron  despotism  of  the 
theocrat.  This  is  the  first  step  in  civilization,  in 
man's  career  of  progress.  It  is  not  strange,  then, 
that  some  should  prefer  the  savage  to  the  civilized 
state.  Who  would  not  rather  roam  the  forest,  with 
a  free  step  and  unshackled  limb,  though  exposed  to 
hunger,  cold,  and  nakedness,  than  crouch  an  abject 
slave  beneath  the  whip  of  the  master  T  As  yet 
civilization  has  done  little  more  than  break  and 
subdue  man's  natural  love  of  freedom — than  tame 
his  wild  and  eagle  spirit.  In  what  a  world  does  man 
even  now  find  himself,  when  he  first  awakes  and 
feels  some  of  the  workings  of  his    manly    nature! 


HORRIBLE   DOCTRINES. 


173 


2I1  as 

>nfe8- 

ikmy 

I  can 

[lyself 

UUing 

honest 

Place 
of  the 
I!hurcli 
ill  my 
ive  me 
)f  man^ 

every 

savage 
he  firsi 
of  the 
of  the 
jtion,  in 
,  then, 
ivilized 
Ist,  with 
osed  to 
abject 
|A8   yet 
,k   and 
tame 
es  man 
es   and 
ature ! 


He  Is  in  a  cold,  damp,  dark  dungeon,  and  loaded  all 
over  with  chains,  with  the  iron  eating  into  his  soul. 
He  cannot  make  one  single  free  movement.  The 
priest  holds  his  conscience,  fashion  controls  liis  tastes, 
and  society  with  her  forces  invades  the  very  sanct- 
uary of  his  heart,  and  takes  command  of  his  love, 
that  which  is  purest  and  best  in  his  nature,  which 
alone  gives  reality  to  his  existence,  and  from  which 
proceeds  the  only  ray  that  pierces  the  gloom  of  his 
prison-house.  Even  that  he  cannot  enjoy  in  peace 
and  quietness — hardly  at  all.  He  is  wounded  on 
every  side,  in  every  part  of  his  being,  in  every  re- 
lati<m  in  life,  in  every  idea  of  his  mind,  in  every 
sentiment  of  his  heart.  Oh,  it  is  a  sad  world,  a  sad 
world  to  the  young  heart  just  awakening  to  its 
diviner  instincts !  A  sad  world  to  him  who  is  not 
gifted  with  the  only  blessing  which  seems  compatible 
witii  life  as  it  is, — absolute  insensibility.  But  no 
matter.  A  wise  man  never  murmurs.  He  never 
kicks  against  the  pricks.  What  is  is,  and  there  is 
an  end  of  it;  what  can  be  may  be,  and  we  will 
do  what  we  can  to  make  life  what  it  ought  to  be. 
Though  man's  first  step  in  civilization  is  slavery, 
his  last  step  shall  be  freedom.  The  free  soul  can 
never  be  wholly  subdued ;  the  ethereal  fire  in  man's 
nature  may  be  smothered,  but  it  cannot  be  extin- 
guie^lied.  Down,  down,  deep  in  the  centre  of  the 
1  r«rt,  it  burns  inextinguishable  and  forever^  glowing 
iiitenser  with  the  accumulating  heat  of  centuries ; 
»nd  one  day  the  whole  mass  of  humanity  shall  be- 
come ignited,  be  full  of  fire  within  and  all  over  as  a 


m 


174 


THE  CONVERT. 


live  coal ;  and  then — slavery,  and  whatever  is  foreign 
to  the  soul  itself,  shall  be  consumed. 

*^  But,  having  traced  the  inequality  we  complain 
of,  to  its  source,  we  ask  again,  What  is  the  remedy  T 
The  remedy  is  to  be  sought  first  in  the  destruction 
of  the  priest.  We  are  not  mere  destructives.  We 
delight  not  in  pulling  down ;  but  the  bad  must  be 
removed  before  the  good  can  be  introduced.  Con' 
viction  and  repentance  precede  regeneration.  More- 
over, we  are  Christians,  and  it  is  only  by  following 
out  the  Christian  law  and  the  example  of  the  early 
Christians,  that  we  can  hope  to  effect  anything. 
Christianity  is  the  sublimest  protest  against  the 
priesthood  ever  uttered,  and  a  protest  uttered  by 
both  God  and  man,  for  he  who  uttered  it  was  God- 
In  the  person  of  Jesus,  both  God  and  man 


man. 


protest  against  the  priesthood.  What  was  the 
mission  of  Jesus  but  a  solemn  summons  of  every 
priesthood  on  earth  to  judgment,  and  of  the  human 
race  to  freedom  f  He  discomfited  the  learned 
doctors,  and  with  whips  made  of  small  cords  drove 
the  priests,  degenerated  into  money-changers,  from 
the  temple  of  God.  He  instituted  himself  no  priest- 
hood, no  form  of  religious  worship.  He  recognized 
no  priest  but  a  holy  life,  and  commanded  the  con- 
struction of  no  temple  but  that  of  the  pure  heart. 
He  preached  no  formal  religion,  enjoined  no  creed, 
set  apart  no  day  for  religious  worship.  He  preached 
fraternal  love,  peace  on  earth,  and  good-will  to  men. 
He  came  to  the  soul  enslaved,  *  cabined,  cribbed, 
confined,'  to  the  poor  child  of  mortality,  bound  hand 


HORRIBLE  DOCTRINES. 


175 


and  footy  unable  to  move,  and  said  in  tho  tones  of  a 
God,  '  Be  free,  be  enlarged,  be  there  room  for  thee 
to  grow,  and  expand,  and  overflow  with  love.' 

*^  In  the  name  of  Jesus,  we  admit,  there  has  been  a 
priesthood  instituted,  and,  considering  how  the  world 
went,  a  priesthood  could  not  but  be  instituted  ]  but 
the  religion  of  Jesus  repudiates  it.  It  recognizes 
no  mediator  between  Qod  and  man  but  him  who  died 
on  the  cross  to  redeem  man ;  no  propitiation  for  sin 
but  a  pure  love  which  rises  in  a  living  flame  to  all 
that  is  beautiful  and  good,  and  spreads  out  in  light 
and  warmth  for  all  the  chilled  and  benighted  sons  of 
mortality.  In  calling  every  man  to  be  a  priest,  it 
virtually  condemns  every  possible  priesthood  ;  and  in 
recognizing  the  religion  of  the  New  Covenant,  the 
religion  written  on  the  heart,  of  a  law  put  within 
the  soul,  it  abolishes  all  formal  worship. 

^^The  priest  is  universally  a  tyrant,  universally 
the  enslaver  of  his  brethren,  and  therefore  it  is  that 
Christianity  condemns  him.  It  could  not  prevent 
the  reestablish ment  of  a  hierarchy,  but  it  prepared 
its  ultimate  destruction,  by  denying  the  inequality 
of  blood,  by  representing  all  men  as  equal  before 
God,  and  by  insisting  on  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy. 
The  best  feature  of  the  Church  was  its  denial  to  the 
clergy  of  the  right  to  marry.  By  this  it  prevented 
the  new  hierarchy  from  becoming  hereditary,  as 
were  the  old  sacerdotal  corporations  of  India  and 
Judea. 

<<We  object  not  to  religious  instruction.  We 
object  not  to  the  gathering  together  of  the  people 


176 


THE  CONVERT. 


on  one  day  in  seven  to  sing  and  pray^  and  listen  to 
a  discourse  from  a  religious  teacher ;  but  we  object 
to  everything  like  an  outward  visible  church,  to 
everything  that  in  the  remotest  degree  partakes  of 
the  priest.  A  priest  is  one  who  stands  as  a  sort  of 
mediator  between  God  and  men ;  but  we  have  one 
Mediator,  Jesus  Christ,  who  gave  himself  a  ransom 
for  all,  and  that  is  enough.  It  may  be  supposed 
that  the  Protestants  have  no  priests ;  but,  for  our- 
selves, we  know  no  fundamental  difference  between 
a  Catholic  priest  and  a  Protestant  clergyman,  as  wo 
know  no  difference  of  any  magnitude,  in  relation  to 
the  principles  on  which  they  are  based,  between  a 
Protestant  Church  and  the  Catholic  Church.  Both 
are  based  o^  the  principle  of  authority,  both  deny 
in  fact,  Ljwever  it  may  be  in  name,  the  authority 
of  reason,  and  war  against  freedom  of  mind;  both 
substitute  dead  works  for  true  righteousness,  a  vain 
show  for  the  reality  of  piety,  and  are  sustained  as 
the  means  of  reconciling  us  to  God,  without  our  being 
required  to  be  godlike.  Both,  therefore,  ought  to  go 
by  the  board." 

I  spoke  here  of  Protestantism  as  I  knew  it,  but  ot 
Catholicity  as  it  was  represented  to  me  by  Protest- 
ants. The  Catholic  Church  had  been  misrepresented 
to  me,  and,  when  I  caaie  to  examine  her,  I  found 
that  she  did  require  us  to  be  godlike,  as  the  con- 
dition of  our  actual  reconciliation  with  God  *,  that  slie 
did  require  of  us  true  righteousness,  intrinsic 
justice  and  sanctity,  and  that  this  was  precisely 
the  most  formidable  objection  which  the  Reformers 


HOitUIBLE   DOCiUlNKS. 


17 


urged  against  her.  ^\y  statement  as  against  Protest- 
antism was  true  and  just,  in  so  far  as  Protestantism 
pretends  to  be  a  church  ;  but,  as  against  tlie  Catholic 
Church,  was,  of  course,  imtrue. 

The  first  step  was  to  demolish  the  outward  visible 
(Jhurch,  and  make  away  with  the  priesthood — an- 
nihilate the  priest.  The  next  step  was  to  '^  resusci- 
tate the  Christianity  of  Christ.  The  Cliristianity  of 
the  Church  has  done  its  work.  We  have  had 
enough  of  that  Christianity.  It  is  powerless  ior 
aood,  but  by  no  means  powerless  for  evil.  It  now 
anmans  us  and  hinders  the  growth  of  God^H  kingdom. 
The  moral  energy  which  is  awakened  it  misdirects, 
and  makes  its  deluded  disciples  believe  that  they 
have  done  their  duty  to  God  when  they  have 
joined  the  Church,  offered  a  prayer,  sung  a  psalm, 
and  contributed  of  their  means  to  send  out  a  mission- 
ary to  preach  unintelligible  dogmas  to  the  poor 
heathen,  who,  God  knows,  have  unintelligible 
dogmas  enough  already,  and  more  than  enougli. 
All  this  must  be  abandoned,  and  Christianity,  as  it 
came  from  Christ,  be  taken  up  and  preached — and 
preached  in  simplicity  and  power. 

"  According  to  the  Christianity  of  Christ  no  man 

can  enter  the  kingdom  of  God,  who  does  not  labor 

with  all  zeal  and  diligence  to  establish  the  kingdom 

of  God  on  earth  )  who  does  not  labor  to  bring  down 

I  the  high,  and  bring  up  the  low;  to  break  the  fetters 

I  of  the  bound,  and  to  set  the  captive  free ;  to  destrcjy 

'  all  oppression,  and  to  establish  the  reign  of  jutjtice, 

which  is  the  reign  of  equality,   between  man  and 


» 

I 


T 

t 


178 


THE  CONV£KT. 


intiii ;  to  introduce  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth, 
wlivreiii  dwelleth  righteousness,  wherein  all  shall  be 
as  brothers,  loving  one  another,  and  no  one  possessing 
what  another  lacketh.  No  man  can  be  a  Christian 
who  does  not  labor  to  reform  society,  to  mould  it 
according  to  the  will  of  God  and  the  nature  of  man ; 
so  that  free  scope  shall  be  given  to  every  man  to 
unfold  himself  in  all  beauty  and  power,  and  to  grow 
up  into  the  stature  of  a  perfect  man  in  Christ  Jesus. 
No  man  can  be  a  Christian  who  does  not  refrain 
from  all  practices  by  which  the  rich  grow  richer, 
and  the  poor  grow  poorer,  and  who  does  not  do  all 
in  his  power  to  elevate  the  laboring  classes,  so  that 
one  man  shall  not  be  doomed  to  toil  while  another 
enjoys  the  fruits ;  so  that  every  man  shall  bo  free 
and  independent,  sitting  under  his  own  vine  and  tig- 
tree,  with  none  to  molest  or  to  make  afraid.  We 
grant  the  power  of  C}iristianity  in  working  out  the 
reform  we  demand ;  we  grant  that  one  of  the  most 
effectual  means  of  elevating  the  workingmen  is  to 
Christianize  the  community.  But  you  must  ChriS' 
tinnize  it.  It  is  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  that  you  must 
preach,  not  the  gospel  of  the  priests." 

After  this  the  resort  must  be  to  the  government 
as  the  agent  of  society,  or  the  instrument  of  carry- 
ing out  its  ideas.  Through  the  government  we 
must  break  up  the  banks  and  great  business  cor- 
porations, destroy  the  modern  credit  system,  and 
introduce  those  changes  in  regard  to  the  descent 
and  distribution  of  property  proposed  by  the  Saint- 
Simonians.      These   were   the    principal    offensive 


HORRIBLE   DOCTRINES. 


179 


nent 
rry- 
we 
cor- 
and 
cent 
lint- 
sive 


points  In  my  essay ,  though  some  attacks  in  it  on  the 
iactory  system,  and  on  the  middling  classes  of 
society,  represented  as  far  more  hostile  to  the  work- 
ingmen  than  the  aristocracy,  were  not  very  ac- 
ceptable. I  am  not  surprised  that  my  doctrines 
wore  denounced  as  horrible,  but  I  am  surprised  to 
tind  such  men  as  Theodore  Parker,  Wendel  Phillips, 
and  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  continuing  to  preach  the 
most  horrible  of  them,  and  almost  with  public 
approbation. 


! 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


GETTING  BETTER. 


It  required  no  great  effort  to  defend  these  doctrines 
on  Protestant  and  Democratic  principles.  No  one 
but  a  Catholic  can  consistently  assert  the  Church 
in  the  sense  in  which  I  opposed  it,  and  the  denial  «>f 
the  priesthood  is  an  essential  element  of  Protestant- 
ism. It  is  only  figuratively  that  Protestantism  has 
an  altar  or  a  sacrifice,  and  without  both  there  is  no 
priest.  Protestants  have  ministers  and  preachers, 
but  no  priests,  and  they  seldom  or  never  call  their 
preachers  or  pastors  by  that  name. 

But  this  abolition  of  the  Church  and  tlic  priest- 
hood was  necessary  to  my  view  of  the  new  religious 
organization  of  mankind.  The  error  of  the  past  had 
been  in  the  double  organization  of  society,  the  one 
temporal,  the  other  spiritual.  "The  mission  of 
Jesus,"  I  wrote  in  explanation  and  defence  of  my 
essay,  "was  twofold."  One  purpose  of  his  mission 
was  to  make  an  atonejient  for  sin,  and  prepare  the 
soul  for  heaven  in  the  world  to  come.  The  other 
purpose  was  to  found  a  holy  kingdom  on  the  earth, 
under  the  dominion  of  which  all  men  should  finally 
be  brought.  This  holy  kingdom,  which  Christ  came 
to  found  on  the  earth,  has  been  mistakcMi   for  the 


(;KHiNO    IIKTIKK. 


isl 


oiitwnnl  vUiblc  Cliiircli ;  and  the  Ciiurcli  has  there- 
fore  been  held  to  be  a  spiritual  body^  a  body 
corporate,  independent  in  itself,  and  distinct  from 
tiie  body  politic,  or  civil  society.  This  has  ^ivcn 
rise  to  a  double  or*;anization  of  mankind  :  one  for 
material  interests,  called  the  State,  and  under  the 
control  of  the  civil  government  proper ;  the  other 
for  spiritual  purposes,  called  the  Church,  and 
governed  by  laws  and  officers  of  its  own,  distinct 
from  those  of  the  State. 

**  Now  to  this  we  strenuously  object.  We  would 
establish  the  kingdom  of  God  on  the  earth,  but  wo 
would  not  have  a  double  organization  of  mankind. 
We  would  have  but  a  single  organization ;  and  this 
we  would  call,  not  the  Church,  but  the  State.  This 
organization  should  be  based  on  the  principles  of 
the  Gospel,  and  realize  them  as  perfectly  as  finite 
men  can  realize  them.  The  kingdom  of  God  is  an 
inward,  spiritual  kingdom.  In  plain  language,  it  is 
the  dominion  of  truth,  justice,  and  love.  Now  we 
would  build  up  this  kingdom,  not  by  founding  an 
outward  visible  church,  but  by  cultivating  the  prin- 
ciples of  truth,  justice,  and  love  in  the  soul,  and  by 
brin;^ing  society  and  all  its  acts  into  harmony  with 
titem.  Our  views,  if  carried  out,  would  realize,  not 
the  unioifj  but  the  unity  of  Church  and  State.  They 
would  indeed  destroy  the  Church  as  a  separate  body, 
as  a  distinct  organization;  but  they  would  do  it  by 
iransfcning  to  the  State  the  moral  ideas  on  which 
the  Church  was  professedly  founded,  and  which  it 
has  failed  to  realize.     They  would  realize  that  idea 


1S2 


TIIK  COXVKKT. 


<»f  a  ^ClinHtinii  Coininoiiwcaltli,*  after  wliidi  our 
Puritan  fathers  so  earnestly  and  so  pcrseveringly 
strugjjiccl." 

Tiic  new  cliurcli|  or  religious  institution,  T  had 
asserted  in  my  New  Views  to  bo  necessary^  it  will  be 
rccollceted,  was  to  be  based  on  the  union,  or  rather 
unity,  of  the  spiritual  and  the  material ;  and  there- 
fore, to  be  consistent,  I  must  reject  the  double 
organization  which  had  obtained  under  Catholicity, 
II nd  was  attempted  to  be  continued  under  Protestant- 
ism. The  error  of  the  old  Church  was,  that  it  was 
organized  in  the  interest  of  the  spiritual  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  material ;  the  error  of  the  State 
had  hitherto  been  that  it  was  organized  in  the  inter- 
ests of  the  material  to  the  exclusion  of  the  spiritual. 
The  new  order  must  unite  the  two,  the  spiritual  and 
the  material,  in  a  single  organization,  as  the  soul 
and  body  are  united  and  form  one  living  man. 

In  1836  I  was  disposed  to  call  the  new  organiza- 
tion the  Church  instead  of  the  State;  in  1840,  I 
was  disposed  to  call  it  the  State  rather  than  the 
Church  ]  but  my  principles,  doctrines,  and  opinions 
were  the  same  at  both  epochs.  It  made  no  difference 
as  to  the  character  of  the  organization  itself,  by 
whichever  name  it  was  called ;  it  remained  precisely 
the  same ;  but  by  calling  it  State  instead  of  Church, 
I  could  obtain  for  it  more  support.  Many  would 
labor  to  organize  the  State  on  what  I  regarded  as 
Christian  principles,  and  to  realize  in  its  constitution 
and  administration  tlie  purposes  of  the  Gospel  as  I 
understood  it,  that  would  have  stood  aloof  or  even 


OErriNO    IIKITEIJ. 


183 


opposed  me,  if  I  had  called  upon  them  to  aid  me  in 
founding  a  new  church.  Moreover,  I  saw  or  thought 
I  saw  in  the  American  political  constitution  the  germ 
of  the  very  organization  I  was  in  pursuit  of.  This 
was  the  view  taken  hy  my  most  distinguished  and 
influential  friends.  It  was  thought  that^  by  uniting 
with  the  Democratic  party,  at  once  the  conservative 
and  the  movement  party  of  the  country,  and  indoc- 
trinating it  with  our  philosophical,  theological,  and 
humanitarian  views,  we  could  make  it  the  instrument 
of  realizing  our  ideas  of  men  and  society.  I  adopted 
this  the  more  readily,  because  my  philosophical 
studies,  which  I  had  begun  to  prosecute  in  earnest, 
had  led  me  to  the  rather  important  conclusion  that 
man  cannot  found  institutions  absolutely  new,  that 
he  can  develop,  but  not  create,  and,  therefore,  the  new 
must  have  its  root  in  the  old.  The  future  can  be 
only  the  development  and  perfection  of  the  past.  I 
must  then  either  begin  with  the  old  Church  and  de- 
velop and  modify  that  to  the  new  wants,  or  I  must 
do  the  same  with  the  State.  The  former  is  imprac- 
ticable, because  the  old  Church  is  founded  on  the 
ideas  of  immobility  and  unchangeableness,  and 
therefore  excludes  the  idea  of  its  own  development 
or  progressiveness.  This  was  not  the  case  with  the 
State,  especially  in  this  country.  The  American 
State  contemplates  progress,  and  provides  for  its  own 
amendment.  What  we  had  then  to  do,  was  to  imbue 
the  Democratic  party  with  our  ideas  of  Christian 
Democracy,  in  order  to  wield  the  whole  political 
power  of  the  Union  in  favor  of  the  end  contemplated, 


18-t 


TIIK   CONVKUT. 


and  to  make  the  State  a  truly  Christian  State,  or  to 
develop  it  into  that  organization  of  mankind  which 
was  to  rule  the  future.  It  vras  with  this  view  that 
my  "  Quarterly  Review,"  after  the  publication  of  its 
fc^  first  number,  in  January,  1838,  supported  the  Demo- 
.^ratic  party,  and  labored  to  imbue  it  with  the  doc- 
trines of  what  was  then  called  the  Boston  School. 

This  doctrine  of  the  single  organization  of  man- 
kind, or  the  unity  of  Church  and  State,  had  many 
friends  among  the  profoundest  thinkers  and  most 
approved  writers  of  the  country,  and  is  more  or  less 
distinctly  held  by  our  Abolitionists,  and  Philanthro- 
pists, who  seek  to  make  the  State  the  agent  for 
realizing  their  spiritual  idsas  and  moral  doctrines. 
It  was  implied  in  the  Reformation  itself,  and  at- 
tempted to  be  realized  by  Calvin  in  Geneva,  and  by 
the  Puritan  colonists  of  New  England.  It  had  been 
defended  by  Mr.  Alexander  H.  Everett  in  The  North 
American  BevieWy  and  by  an  able  writer  in  The 
Christian  Examiner^  the  organ  of  the  Unitarians, 
long  oefore  I  broached  it.  It  was  embraced  by  the 
Saint-Simonians,  and  held  by  all  the  Socialists,  who 
did  not  reject  the  State  for  Phalansteries  or  Com- 
munities. Indeed,  it  is  reasonable  and  just,  if  you 
recognize  only  the  natural  order.  At  the  time  I 
held  it,  though  I  accepted  all  the  Christian  mysteries 
in  a  sense  of  my  own,  I  had  no  conception  of  the 
supernatural  order.  God  and  nature,  or  God  in 
nature,  embraced  all  the  being  or  existence  I  ad- 
mitted. The  supernatural  was  either  God  as 
transcending  creation,  of  which  no  revelation  had 


> 


GETOXO    BEITER. 


185 


been  made,  or  it  was  the  mctaphysicil,  tlie  super- 
t-ensible,  as  Coleridge  seemed  to  maintain.  I  lia  I 
not  the  least  conception  of  a  created  onlor  of 
supernatural  existence,  or  life  above  the  natiiiiii ; 
and  with  only  a  single  order  of  life,  the  d(»ubh 
organization  of  mankind  could  not  and  cannot  be 
defended.  That  is  defensible  only  on  the  condition 
that  there  are  two  orders,  the  one  natural  and  t)io 
other  supernatural,  and  that  man  lives  or  may  iivo 
in  this  world  both  a  natural  and  a  supernatural  lite. 
The  Catholic  Church  is  the  supernatural  organization 
(»f  the  supernatural  order, — an  order  that  cannitt  bi; 
represented  by  the  State,  which  is  and  can  be  only 
the  natural  organization  of  the  natural.  From  \\\y 
standpoint  at  the  time,  I  was  perfectly  right  in 
rejectin<^  the  Church  as  an  organization  distinct 
from  the  State. 

My  doctrines  touching  the  Church  and  the  priest- 
hood were  not  those  by  which  I  gave  the  most  of- 
fence. The  really  horrible  doctrines  in  the  eyes  of 
the  public  were  my  supposed  doctrine  on  marriage, 
my  condemnation  of  tnc  system  of  wages,  and  my 
proposition  to  change  the  laws  which  govern  the 
descent  and  redistribution  of  property.  I  have 
cited  the  passage  relating  to  marriage.  What  was 
running  in  my  head  when  I  wrote  it,  I  no  longer 
remember.  I  did  not  at  that  time  deny  the  indis- 
solubility of  the  marriage  contract.  My  language 
was  construed  to  mean  a  denial  of  marriage,  and  tlio 
assertion  of  what  is  called  the  "  Free- Love  '*  system  ; 
but  I  certainly  held  no  such  system,  if  I  ever  had 


186 


THE   CONVEUT. 


done  80,  after  my  connection  with  the  Fanny-Wright 
school  had  ceased.  In  defending  myself  at  the 
time,  I  took  the  Catholic  ground^  without  much  con- 
sistency, that  marriage  is  a  sacrament  and  indis- 
soluble ;  and  alleged  that  what  I  complained  of  was 
the  viciously-organized  state  of  society,  which  makes 
marriages  mercenary,  and  renders  it,  to  a  great 
extent,  impossible  for  them  to  be  founded  on  love  oi 
mutual  affection.  I  suspect  that  there  was  a  sliglu 
touch  of  sentimentalism,  and  no  very  clear  or  definite 
meaning  in  what  I  wrote.  There  might  have  been 
some  nonsense,  but  there  was  no  looseness. 

The  proposition  with  regard  to  property  was 
thrown  out  avowedly,  not  for  adoption,  but  for  dis- 
cussion. It  was  simply  the  doctrine  of  the  Saint- 
Simonian  school,  which  I  have  already  stated.  It 
did  not  interfere  with  private  property,  or  dispossess 
a  single  proprietor  during  his  lifetime,  or  interfere 
with  his  free  use  of  his  property  as  long  as  he  lived. 
It  proceeded  on  the  assumption  that  a  man's  right  of 
property  ceases  with  his  natural  life,  and  therefore 
that  he  has  no  natural  right  to  dispose  of  his  prop- 
erty by  will  or  testament,  to  take  effect  after  his 
death  ;  and  that  the  right  of  inheritance  in  the  child 
to  the  property  of  the  parent  is  a  municipal,  not  a 
natural  right,  or  right  founded  in  the  law  of  nature. 
These  assumptions  are  generally  conceded  or  main- 
tained by  jurists  ;  and,  thus  far,  I  proposed  nothing 
new.  It  was  then  perfectly  competent  for  the  State 
to  abolish  the  present  legislation  on  the  subject,  and 
to  enact  a  new  law  of  descent,  and  a  new  Statute  of 


OETTINO   BETTER. 


187 


Distribution.  The  only  question  that  could  arise 
between  me  and  my  opponents  was  a  question,  not  of 
right,  but  of  expediency.  Is  the  proposed  change 
expedient  f  I  contended  that  it  was,  if  we  meant 
to  maintain  political  equality  really  as  well  as  nomi- 
nally ;  and  I  think  even  now  that,  on  this  hypothesis, 
I  was  right.  My  error  was  in  taking  that  equality 
seriously,  and  in  supposing  that  it  would  be  possible 
to  induce  my  countrymen  to  adopt  the  measures 
necessary  to  make  it  a  reality.  The  objection  to 
my  proposition  was,  not  that  it  was  wrong  in  princi- 
ple, or  would  be  hurtful  in  practice,  but  that  it  was 
simply  impracticable.  Equality  is  a  fine  thing  to 
profess,  to  declaim  about,  but  it  is  the  last  thing 
men  will  consent  to  adopt,  except  in  name.  It  is 
not  displeasing  when  applied  to  those  above  us,  but 
is  very  disgusting,  unreasonable,  unnatural,  when 
applied  to  those  below  us.  I  am  as  good  as  you, 
does  very  well  j  but,  you  are  as  good  as  I,  is  quite 
another  affair,  and  few  will  accept  it,  who  have  not 
the  supernatural  virtue  of  Christian  charity. 

The  gravamen  of  my  offence  was  my  condemna- 
tion of  the  modern  industrial  system,  especially  the 
system  of  labor  at  wages,  which  I  held  to  be  worse 
except  in  regard  to  the  feelings,  than  the  slave 
system  at  the  South.  In  this  I  adopted  the  views  of 
the  socialists  of  France  and  other  countries.  The 
revolution  we  wanted  now  was,  not  a  revolution 
against  the  king  or  the  crown,  but  against  the  Bour- 
geoisie or  middling  class.  They  who  in  the  European 
revolutions   of   1848    clamored    for    la    Edpuhliqu 


188 


THE  CONVERT. 


dimocratiquc  ct  sociahj  held  only  the  views  I  had 
advocated  in  my  essay  on  the  laboring  classes ;  and 
they  were  the  only  consistent  party  that  I  was  able 
to  detect  in  those  revolutions.  A  Democratic 
government  that  leaves  untouched  l\1  the  social 
inequalities,  or  inequalities  of  condition,  which  obtain 
in  all  countries,  always  struck  me  as  an  absurdity ; 
and  I  have  seen  no  reason  to  change  my  opinions  on 
that  point.  The  political  history  of  my  own  country 
tends  to  confirm  them.  In  1840  I  had  not  wholly 
ceased  to  believe  it  pos:ible  to  introduce  such 
changes  into  our  social  and  economical  arrang^ents 
as  would  give  to  the  political  equality  asserted  by 
American  Democracy  a  practical  significance.  I 
have  got  bravely  over  that  since. 

I  took,  in  regard  to  society,  even  as  late  as  1810, 
the  Democratic  premises  as  true  and  unquestionable. 
They  were  given  me  by  the  public  sentiment  of  my 
country.  I  had  taken  them  in  with  my  mother^s 
milk,  and  had  never  thought  of  inquiring  whether 
they  were  tenable  or  not.  I  took  them  as  my  polit- 
ical and  social  starting-point,  or  principiumy  and 
sought  simply  to  harmonize  government  and  society 
with  them.  If  I  erred,  it  was  in  common  with  my 
Democratic  countrymen,  and  I  differed  from  them 
only  in  seeking  what  they  did  not  seek,  to  be  con- 
sistent in  error.  Democratic  government  was  de- 
fended on  the  ground  that  it  recognized  and  main- 
tained the  equality  of  all  men,  and  was  opposed  to 
the  system  of  privilege,  class,  or  castes.  It  asserted 
equality  as  a  natural  right,  and  assumed  that  the 


GETTINa   BETIER. 


189 


introduction  and  maintenance  of  equality   between 
man  aad  man  is  desirable,  and  essential  to  the  moral, 
intellectual,  and  physical  well-being  of  mankind  on 
earth.     Taking  this,  without  examination,  to  be  true, 
I    concluded    very    reasonably    that   we    ought    to 
conform  society  to  it ;  and  that  whatever  in  society 
is  repugnant  to  it,  and  tends  to  prevent  its  practical 
realization,  is  wrong,  and  should  be  warred  against. 
My    countrymen  did   not   understand   me,   because 
they  were  not  in  the  habit  of  generalizing  their  own 
views,  and  testing  them  by  the  light  of  first  princi- 
ples.   They  could  reason  well  enough  on  particulars, 
or  in  particular  instances,  but  not  as  to  the  whole  of 
their  political  and  social  ideas.      They  could  accept 
incongruous  ideas,  and  felt  no  inconvenience  in  sup- 
porting anomalies  and  inconsistencies.      They  could 
defend  with    equal  earnestness  perfect  equality   in 
theory,  and  the  grossest  inequality  in  practice,  and 
call  it  common-sense.     I  could  not  do  that.      Either 
conform  your  practice,   I  said,  to   your  theory,  or 
your   theory    to    your    practice.      Be    Democrats 
socially,  or  do  not  claim  to  be  so  politically.      Alas ! 
I  did    not   know   then    that   men   act   from    habit, 
prejudice,    routine,    passion,     caprice,    rather    than 
from   reason ;  and  that,  of  all  people  in  the  world. 
Englishmen  and  Americans  are  the  least  disturbed 
by  incongruities,  inconsistencies,  inconsequences,  and 
anomalies — although  I  was  beginning  to  suspect  it. 
Starting  from  the  Democratic  theory  of  man  and 
society,  I  contended  that  the  great,  the  mother-evil 
of  modern  society  was  the  separation  of  capital  and 


190 


THE  CONVERT. 


labor ;  or  the  fact  tliat  one  class  of  the  community 
owns  the  funds,  and  another  and  a  distinct  class  is 
compelled  to  perform  the  labor  of  production.  Tlie 
consequence  of  this  system  is,  that  owners  of  capital 
enrich  themselves  at  the  expense  of  the  owners  of 
labor.  The  system  of  money  wages,  the  modern 
system,  is  more  profitable  to  the  owners  of  capital 
than  the  slave  system  is  to  the  slave-masters,  and 
hardly  less  oppressive  to  the  laborer.  The  wages, 
as  a  general  rule,  are  never  sufficient  to  enable  tiie 
laborer  to  place  himself  on  an  equal  footing  with  the 
capitalist.  Capital  will  always  command  the  lion's 
share  of  the  proceeds.  This  is  seen  in  the  fact  that, 
while  they  who  command  capital  grow  rich,  the 
laborer  by  his  simple  wages  at  best  only  obtains  a 
bare  subsistence.  The  whole  class  of  simple  labor- 
ers are  poor,  and  in  general  unable  to  procure  by 
their  wages  more  than  the  bare  necessaries  of  life. 
This  is  a  necessary  result  of  the  system.  The 
capitalist  employs  labor  that  he  may  grow  rich 
or  richer;  the  laborer  sells  his  labor  that  he  may 
not  die  of  hunger,  he,  his  wife,  and  little  ones ;  and 
as  the  urgency  of  guarding  against  hunger  is  always 
stronger  than  that  of  growing  rich  or  richer,  the 
capitalist  holds  the  laborer  at  his  mercy,  and  has 
over  him,  whether  called  a  slave  or  a  freeman,  the 
power  of  life  and  death. 

An  examination  into  the  actual  condition  of  the 
laboring  classes  in  all  countries,  especially  in  Great 
Britain  and  the  United  States,  where  the  modern 
industrial  and  commercial  system  is  carried  farthest. 


GETTING  BETTER. 


191 


proves  this  reasoning  to  be  correct.  Poor  men  may 
indeed  become  rich,  but  not  by  the  simple  wages  of 
unskilled  labor.  They  never  do  become  rich,  except 
by  availing  themselves  in  some  way  of  the  labors  of 
others.  Dependent  on  wages  alone,  the  laborer  re- 
mains always  poor,  and  shut  out  from  nearly  all  the 
advantages  of  society.  In  what  are  called  prosper- 
ous times  he  may,  by  working  early  and  late,  and 
with  all  his  might,  retain  enough  of  the  proceeds  of 
his  labor  to  save  him  from  actual  want  ]  but  in  what 
are  called  ^'  hard  times,''  it  is  not  so,  and  cases  of 
actual  suffering  for  want  of  the  necessaries  of  life, 
nay,  of  actual  starvation,  even  in  our  own  country, 
are  no  rare  occurrences.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
estimate  the  amount  of  actual  suffering  endured  by 
the  honest  and  virtuous  poor  in  every  one  of  our 
larger  towns  and  cities,  and  which  neither  private 
nor  public  charity  can  reach. 

The  evil  does  not  stop  here.  The  system  ele- 
vates the  middling  class  to  wealth,  often  men  who 
began  life  with  poverty.  A  poor  man,  or  a  man  of 
small  means  in  the  beginning,  become  rich  by  trade, 
speculation,  or  the  successful  exploitation  of  labor,  is 
often  a  greater  calamity  to  society  than  a  wealthy 
man  reduced  to  poverty.  An  old  established  nobil- 
ity, with  gentle  manners,  refined  tastes,  chivalrous 
feelings,  surrounded  by  the  prestige  of  rank,  and  en- 
deared by  the  memory  of  heroic  deeds  or  lofty  civic 
virtues,  is  endurable,  nay  respectable,  and  not  with- 
out compensating  advantages  to  society  in  general, 
for  its  rank  and  privileges.      But  the  upstart,  the 


192 


THE   CONVERT. 


i 


uovus  homOf  with  all  tlie  vulgar  tastes  and  liab'its, 
i«;noi'ance  and  coarseness^  of  the  class  from  which  he 
has  sprung,  and  nothing  of  the  class  into  which  he 
fancies  he  has  risen  but  its  wealth,  is  intolerable,  and 
widely  mischievous.  He  has  nothing  to  sustain  him 
but  his  money,  and  what  money  can  purchase.  He 
enters  upon  a  career  of  lavish  expenditure,  and  aids 
to  introduce  an  expensive  and  luxurious  style  of  liv- 
ing, d«'Structive  of  genuine  simplicity  of  manners^  and 
of  private  and  social  morals.  Moral  worth  and  in- 
tellectual superiority  count  for  nothing.  Men,  to  be 
of  any  account  in  their  town  or  city,  must  be  rich,  at 
least  appear  to  be  rich.  The  slow  gains  of  patient 
toil  and  honest  industry  no  longer  suffice.  There  is 
in  all  classes  an  impatience  to  be  rich.  The  most 
daring  and  reckless  speculations  are  resorted  to,  and 
when  honest  means  fail,  dishonest,  nay,  criminal, 
means  are  adopted.  The  man  of  a  moderate  income 
cannot  live  within  his  means.  His  wife  and  daugh- 
ters must  have  the  house  new  furnished,  or  a  new 
house  taken  up  town,  and  must  dress  so  as  to  vie 
with  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  millionnaires  of 
Fifth  Avenue.  Nobody  is  contented  to  appear  what 
he  is,  or  to  enjoy  life  in  the  state  in  which  he  finds 
himself.  All  are  striving  to  be,  or  to  appear,  what 
they  are  not,  to  work  their  way  up  to  a  higher  social 
stratum,  and  hence  society  becomes  hollow,  a  sham, 
a  lie. 

Between  the  master  and  the  slave,  between  the 
lord  and  the  serf,  there  often  grow  up  pleasant 
personal  relations  and  attachments ;  there  is  personal 


(; KITING    HKITKli. 


193 


)nal 


intercourse,  kindness,  affability,  protection  on  tlio 
one  side,  respect  and  gratitude  on  the  other,  whicii 
partially  compensates  for  the  superiority  of  the  one 
and  the  inferiority  of  the  other;  but  the  modern 
lystem  of  wages  allows  very  little  of  all  this :  the 
capitalist  and'  the  workman  belong  to  different 
species,  and  have  little  personal  intercourse.  Thu 
igent  or  man  of  business  pays  the  workman  his 
wages,  and  there  ends  the  responsibility  of  the 
employer.  The  laborer  has  no  further  claim  on 
him,  and  he  may  want  and  starve,  or  sicken  and 
die — it  is  his  own  affair,  with  which  the  employer 
has  nothing  to  do.  Hence  the  relation  between  the 
two  classes  becomes  mercenary,  hard,  and  a  matter 
of  arithmetic.  The  one  class  become  proud, 
haughty,  cold,  supercilious,  contemptuous,  or  at 
best  superbly  indifferent,  looking  upon  their  laborers 
as  appendages  of  their  steam-engines,  their  spinning- 
jennies,  or  their  power-looms,  witli  far  less  of  esteem 
and  affection  than  they  bestow  on  their  favorite  dogs 
or  horses ;  the  other  class  become  envious,  discon- 
tented, resentful,  hostile,  laboring  under  a  sense  of 
injustice,  and  waiting  only  the  opportunity  to  right 
themselves.  The  equality  of  love,  of  affection, 
cannot  come  in  to  make  amends  for  the  inequality 
of  property  and  condition. 

To  remedy  these  evils,  I  proposed  to  abolish  the 
distinction  between  capitalists  and  laborers,  employer 
and  employed,  by  having  every  man  an  owner  of 
tlie  funds  as  well  as  the  labor  of  production,  and 
tUus  makiqs:  it  possible  for  ever\'  man  to  labor  pn  u 

-ij!0i)   LflB  IiiiiJ^^.ijIjiri    rn^Dom   edj  ji./  tiL«iii  i  tiyjiiiis 


lot 


THK   COXVKUT. 


! 


capital  of  his  own,  and  to  receive  according  to  his 
works.  Undoubtedly,  my  plan  would  have  broken 
up  the  whole  modern  commercial  system,  prostrated 
all  the  great  industries,  or  what  I  called  the  factory 
system;  and  thrown  the  m<ass  of  the  people  back  on 
the  land  to  get  their  living  by  agricultural  and 
mechanical  pursuits.  I  knew  this  well  enough,  but 
this  was  one  of  the  results  I  aimed  at.  It  was 
wherefore  I  opposed  the  whole  banking  and  credit 
system,  and  struggled  hard  to  separate  the  fiscal 
concerns  of  the  government  from  the  moneyed  inter- 
ests of  the  country,  and  to  abolish  paper  currency.  I 
wished  to  check  commerce,  to  destroy  speculation, 
and  for  the  factory  system,  which  we  were  enactin<; 
tariffs  to  protect  and  build  up,  to  restore  the  old 
system  of  real  home  industry.  The  business  men  of 
the  country  saw  as  clearly  as  I  did  whither  my  pro- 
positions tended,  and  took  the  alarm;  and  as  the 
business  interests,  rather  than  the  agricultural  and 
mechanical  interests,  ruled  the  minds  of  my  country- 
men, I  had  my  labor  for  my  pains.  I  went  directly 
against  the  dominant  sentiment  of  the  British  and 
American  world,  and  made  war  on  what  it  holds  to 
be  its  chief  interest  and  its  crowning  glory.  Here 
was  the  gravamen  of  my  offence.  I  had  dared  take 
Democracy  at  Jts  word,  and  pu  h  its  principles  to 
their  last  logical  consequences ;  I  had  had  the 
incredible  folly  of  treating  the  equality  asserted  as 
if  it  meant  something,  as  if  it  could  be  made  a 
reality,  instead  of  a  miserable  sham.  It  was  the 
attacks  I  made  on  the  modem  industrial  and  com- 


I 


OKTiiNn  iu:rri:i:. 


li)5 


inercial  gysteni)  that  gave  the  offence.  Mr.  Bancroft, 
who  had  been  one  of  my  stanchest  friends,  could  not 
go  with  me  in  my  views  of  property,  though  he  did 
not  object  to  my  views  with  regard  to  the  Church 
and  the  priesthood.  John  C.  Calhoun,  of  South 
Carolina,  told  me  that  in  what  I  had  said  of  the 
priests  I  was  right.  ''You  have,''  he  said,  ''told 
tliQ  truth  of  them.  But  your  doctrine  as  to  the 
descent  and  distribution  of  property  is  wrong,  and 
you  will  do  well  to  reexamine  it.''  I  was  not  wrong, 
if  the  premises  from  which  I  reasoned  were  tenable ; 
and  I  am  unable  even  to-day  to  detect  any  unsound- 
ness in  my  views  of  the  relation  of  capital  and  labor, 
or  of  the  modem  system  of  money  wages.  I  believe 
firmly  even  still  that  the  economical  system  I  pro- 
posed, if  it  could  be  introduced,  would  be  favorable 
to  the  virtue  and  happiness  of  society.  But  I  look 
upon  its  introduction  as  wholly  impracticable,  and 
therefore  regard  all  thought  and  effort  bestowed  on  it 
as  worse  than  thrown  away.  We  must  seek  its 
equivalent  from  another  source,  in  another  order  of 
ideas,  set  forth  and  sustained  by  religion. 

My  political  friends,  as  may  well  be  believed, 
were  indignant,  if  not  precisely  at  my  views,  at  my 
inopportune  publication  of  thera.  I  had  injured  my 
party,  and  defeated  by  my  rashness  the  success  of 
its  candidates.  They  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
whatever  my  honesty,  my  zeal  or  ability,  I  was 
deficient  in  the  essential  qualities  of  a  party  leader. 
In  this  they  were  right,  but  tliey  reasoned  from 
wrong  premises.    I  had  my  own  purpose  in  publishing 


196 


THE  CONVERT. 


my  essay  on  the  laboring  classes;  and  what  they 
supposed  I  did  from  rashness,  mere  wantonness^  I 
did  with  deliberation,  with  ^*  malice  aforethought/' 
I  have  seldom,  if  ever,  published  anything  in  the 
heat  of  bloody  or  without  being  well  aware  of  what 
I  was  doing,  and  I  must  bear  the  full  responsibility 
of  doing  it.  That  is,  I  have  always  acted  from 
reason,  not  impulse ;  my  reason  may  or  may  not  have 
been  a  good  one,  but  it  always  seemed  to  mo  a 
good  one  at  the  time,  and  generally  was  a  good  one 
from  the  position  I  occupied. 

I  had,  at  the  persuasion  of  friends,  given  my  sup- 
port, such  as  it  was,  to  the  Democratic  party,  with 
the  hope  of  making  that  party  the  instrument  of 
carrying  out  my  views.  A  short  experience  con- 
vinced me  that  that  hope  was  chimerical.  I  was 
convinced  of  it  by  the  changes  I  detected  taking 
place  in  myself.  I  found  myself  acquiring  a  promi- 
nent position  in  the  Democratic  party,  and  in  a  fair 
way  of  becoming  one  of  its  trusted  leaders ;  but  in 
proportion  as  I  acquired  the  confidence  of  the  party, 
I  found  myself  less  disposed  to  insist  on  my  doctrines 
of  Social  Reform,  and  less  and  less  at  liberty  to  be 
myself,  and  follow  my  own  convictions.  I  might 
gain  political  preferment,  I  might  aspire  to  the  high- 
est posts  in  the  State  and  Nation,  and  even  gain 
them :  at  least  I  had  the  vanity  to  believe  I  couM, 
if  I  chose.  The  road  to  them  was  open  and  plain 
before  me,  and  I  understood  as  well  as  any  other 
man  in  the  country  the  means  to  be  used  to  gain 
them ;  but,  in  gaining  them,  I  must  give  up  my  per- 


I 


(SKiriNu  iihriTKU. 


107 


sotial  freedom  and  independence,  and  follow  as  well 
i\H  lend  my  party.  I  felt,  too,  for  a  moment,  the 
workings  of  political  ambition,  and  dared  no  longer 
trust  myself.  Let  me  go  on  as  I*  am  going  a 
little  longer,  and  I  shall  forget  all  my  early  purposes, 
ubandon  the  work  to  which  I  have  consecrated  my 
life,  or  become  so  involved  in  the  meshes  of  party, 
or  form  so  many  political  relations,  that  I  can  no 
longer  be  free  to  return  to  my  work  without  com- 
promising my  friends,  my  party,  and  perhaps  myself. 
The  best  and  shortest  way,  because  the  honestest 
and  most  straightforward,  is,  now  before  I  become 
deeper  involved,  to  come  out  and  publish  in  the  most 
startling  form  possible  my  whole  ulterior  thought, 
without  circumlocution  or  reticence.  If  the  party 
accept  my  views,  which  of  course  they  will  not,  well 
and  good ;  if  not,  as  will  be  the  case,  the  party  ties 
will  be  broken,  and  I  shall  be  free  to  publish  my 
honest  convictions  without  fear  of  compromising  any- 
body but  myself.  I  shall  be  free  to  act  as  I  think 
proper,  unshackled  by  party  obligations,  or  oven 
personal  friendships.  Such  were  my  reasons,  avowed 
to  those  who  shared  my  confidence,  before  the 
article  was  written.  For  my  party,  the  act  was 
impolitic ;  for  myself,  it  was  necessary  and  prudent. 
I  look  back  upon  it  to-day  as  the  least  discreditable 
act  I .  had  hitherto  performed ;  and  there  was  in  it 
something  bordering  on  moral  heroism,  which  has 
not  been  without  its  reward. 

When  I  published  my  essay,  I  supposed  il  would 
close  my  literary  as  well  as  my  political  career.     But 


]98 


THE   COXVEIIT. 


tlie  manner  in  which  I  was  assailed  aroused  for  a 
moment  my  indignation^  and  made  me  resolve  con- 
trary to  my  original  intention,  to  defend  myself,  and 
to  show  that  I  could  more  than  regain  before  the 
public  the  position  I  had  lost.  I  defended  my  essay 
at  length  and  with  vigor  in  the  following  number  of 
my  Review,  and  silenced  the  noisy  clamors  raised 
against  me.  I  retained  and  enlarged  my  audience^ 
and  assumed  a  higher  tone  and  position  than  I  had 
ever  before  held,  though  not  without  making  the 
greatest  intellectual  efforts,  and  using  all  the  arts  of 
popularity  I  was  capable  of.  I  felt  in  those  times 
that,  to  be  popular  or  unpopular,  is  simply  a  matter 
of  one's  own  choice.  In  the  three  years  that 
followed  I  gained  more  than  I  had  lost,  and  I  never 
stood  higher,  commanded  more  of  the  public  atten- 
tion, or  had  a  more  promising  career  open  before  me, 
than  at  the  moment  when  I  avowed  my  conversion 
to  Catholicity.  I  did  not  value  reputation  for  its 
own  sake — I  have  never  done  so ;  and  if  I  labored 
to  recover  the  ground  I  had  lost,  it  was  simr'iy  to 
prove  that  I  could  do  so  when  I  chose.  It  cost  me 
not  a  pang  to  throw  all  away  on  becoming  a  Cath- 
olic, and  to  be  regarded  as  henceforth  of  no  account 
by  my  non-Catholic  countrymen,  as  I  did  not  doubt 
I  should  be.  There  is  something  else  than  reputa- 
tion worth  living  for. 

The  publication  of  my  Essay  on  the  Laboring 
Classes  marked  the  crisis  in  my  mental  disease.  In 
it  I  had  made  my  confession  to  the  public ;  I  had 
made,  as  I  have  already  said,  a  clean  breast  of  it, 


' 


L 


GETTING    HKTTKK. 


lOD 


for  a 

con- 

|f)  and 

\e  the 


eesav 


and  had  no  further  conceahiient.  I  had  thrown  off 
a  heavy  load  whicli  liad  been  accunmlatint^  for 
years,  and  felt  relioved.  From  that  moment  a 
change  came  over  the  tenjper  of  my  madness.  I 
had  gone  as  far  in  the  direction  1  was  going  as  I 
could  go.  I  had  reached  the  hist  stage  in  tliat 
journey,  and  there  I  must  stop  and  remain,  or  re- 
trace my  steps.  I  had  one  principle,  and  only  one, 
to  which,  since  throwing  up  Universalism,  I  had 
been  faithful, — a  principle  for  which  I  had  perhaps 
made  some  sacrifices:  that  of  following  my  own 
honest  convictions  whithersoever  they  should  load 
me.  I  had  drawn  from  the  premises  furnished  me 
by  my  non-Catholic  and  Democratic  countrymen, 
their  strictly  logical  conclusions,  and  these  same 
countrymen  had  recoiled  from  them  with  horror. 
Either  they  are  wrong  in  doing  so,  or  their  premises 
are  false.  Suppose  I  examine  these  premises,  and 
SCO  if  this  Protestant  and  Democratic  theory  of  man 
and  society,  to  which  the  world  seems  tending,  is  not 
iti^clf  founded  in  error. 

The  electioneering  campaign  of  1840,  carried  on 
hy  doggerels,  log  cabins,  and  hard  cider,  by  means 
utterly  corrupt  and  corrupting,  disgusted  me  with 
Democracy  as  distinguished  from  Constitutional 
Uopublicanism,  destroyed  what  little  confidence  I 
liad  in  popular  elections,  and  made  me  distrust 
both  the  intelligence  and  the  instincts  of  '4he 
masses."  I  sat  down  to  the  scientific  study  of 
government,  in  its  grounds,  its  origin,  its  forms,  and 
its  administration.    I  read  for  the  first  time  Aristotle 


200 


Till-:    cox V KIM". 


on  Politics  J  I  read  the  best  treatises,  ancient  uikI 
modern,  on  government  witiiin  my  reach  j  I  studiu'1 
the  constitutions  of  Greece  and  Rome,  and  their 
history,  the  political  administration  of  ancient 
Persia,  the  feudal  system,  and  the  constitutions  of 
modern  states,  in  the  light  of  such  experience  and 
such  philosophy  as  I  had,  and  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  condition  of  liberty  is  order,  and  that  in 
this  world  we  must  seek,  not  equality,  but  justice. 
To  the  maintenance  of  order  in  the  State,  and 
justice  between  man  and  man,  a  firm,  strong,  and 
efficient  government  is  necessary.  Liberty  is  not 
in  the  absence  of  authority,  but  in  being  held  to 
obey  only  just  and  legitimate  authority.  Evidently, 
I  had  changed  systems,  and  had  entered  another 
order  of  ideas.  Government  was  no  longer  the 
mere  agent  of  society,  as  my  Democratic  masters 
had  taught  me,  but  an  authority  having  the  nght 
and  the  power  to  govern  society,  and  direct  and  aid 
it,  as  a  wise  Providence,  in  fulfilling  its  destiny.  I 
became  henceforth  a  conservative  in  politics,  instead 
of  an  impracticable  radical,  and  through  political 
conservatism  I  advanced  rapidly  towards  religious 
conservatism.  So  I  date  my  beginning  to  amend, 
from  the  publication  of  my  so-called  '^horrible 
doctrines."  * 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


MAN   NO   CHURCH-BUILDER. 

I  HAD  settled  it  that  there  is  no  true  liberty  withoa 
order,  and  no  order  without  a  constituted  authority 
Then,  since  no  progress  without  liberty,  my  new 
church,  necessary  to  the  maintenance  of  order, 
instead  of  coming  after  progress  and  being  its  result, 
must  precede  it,  and  be  the  condition  of  effecting  it. 
I  cannot  effect  the  progress  of  man  and  society  with- 
out the  new  organization.  That  I  settled  long  ago. 
But  how  without  that  progress  obtain  the  new  organ- 
ization, or  the  new  church  itself? 

Here  was  a  problem  I  had  neglected  to  solve, — 
a  problem,  too,  of  no  little  difficulty.  It  will  be  easy 
enough  to  effect  the  progress  when  I  have  the  means 
in  my  hands,  but  how  am  I  to  get  the  means?  I 
cannot  effect  my  end,  the  creation  of  a  heaven  on 
earth,  without  means :  how  any  more  without  means 
create  my  new  church,  by  which  I  am  to  effect  that 
end  ?  Whence  proceeds  the  organic  power  to  erect 
the  new  institution,  which  is  to  elevate  the  human 
(lace  above  their  present  condition,  and  to  set  them 
foiward  in  an  endless  career  of  progress ?  I  have 
heretofore  maintained  that  ideas  are  potent,  and 
proceeded  on  the  supposition  that  they  have  the 


202 


THE   CONVERT. 


intrinsic  force  to  actualize  themselves.  Ideas,  I  was 
accustomed  to  say  with  my  friend,  Bronson  Alcot, 
the  American  Orpheus,  when  once  proclaimed,  will 
take  unto  themselves  hands,  build  the  new  temple, 
and  instaurate  the  new  worship ;  but  ideas  in  them- 
selves are  not  powers,  have  no  active  force,  and 
can  be  rendered  real  and  active  only  as  clothed 
with  concrete  existence  by  a  power  distinct  from 
themselves.  Suppose,  then,  that  I  really  have  the 
true  ideas,  suppose  that  I  see  clearly  and  distinctly 
what  is  to  be  done,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  I  have 
the  power  to  do  it — to  concrete  the  ideas,  to  actual- 
ize them,  to  embody  them  in  a  real  and  living 
organization  of  the  race. 

Certain  it  is  that  man,  speak  we  of  the  race  or  of 
the  individual,  has  no  proper  creative  power.  He 
can  work  only  on  and  with  materials  furnished  to 
his  hands.  The  great  things  he  does,  he  does  only 
by  availing  himself  of  the  great  active  forces  of  the 
universe  in  which  he  is  placed.  The  forces  that 
propel  the  machinery  he  constructs  are  not  his  own, 
nor  of  his  own  creation  ;  they  are  forces  that  already 
exist,  and  exist  and  operate  without  any  dependence 
on  either  his  intellect  or  his  will.  The  water  that 
drives  his  mill,  the  steam  that  propels  his  ship  in 
defiance  of  wind  and  tide,  the  electricity  that  sends 
his  messages  instantaneously  round  the  globe,  and 
brings  back  an  answer,  are  all  powers  created  to  his 
hand,  and  he  only  adapts  them  to  his  use.  Un. 
doubtedly,  the  power  of  association  is  great,  but  it  is 
at  best  only  the  sum  of  the  separate  powers  asso- 


\ 


MAN   NO   CHURCH-BUILDEK. 


20:j 


ciated.  Association  generates  no  new  power ;  it 
only  collects,  concentrates,  and  utilizes  the  powers  of* 
the  individuals  embraced  in  the  association.  The 
power  of  the  race  is  only  the  power  of  all  men,  the 
combined  power  of  the  individuals  who  compose  it  J 
for,  aside  from  the  individuals,  from  all  men,  there 
is  no  actual  man,  no  actua.  humanity.  The  rncc, 
as  distinguished  from  individuals,  is  only  an  idea, 
only  ideal,  not  actual,  man ;  for  man  is  actual,  con- 
crete existence  only  in  men.  In  my  new  association 
or  organization,  I  may  have  the  sum  of  the  life  thnt 
the  race  already  lives  or  has  attained  to,  but  no 
augmentation  of  life.  The  organization  can,  then, 
give  me,  give  the  human  race  itself,  nothing  above 
what  we  already  have.  How,  then,  with  nothin,:^ 
more  than  what  we  already  have,  am  I  to  get  my 
now  organization,  and  in  it  the  means  and  conditions 
of  future  progress,  or  of  becoming  more  than  we  are  ? 
Man  is  now  below  what  I  would  have  him,  ami 
behiiid  the  goal  I  propose  for  him.  I  propose  his 
progress  j  I  propose  to  elevate  him  in  virtue  and 
hnppiness.  But  if  he  is  below  what  I  would  have 
him,  how,  with  him  alone,  am  I  to  elevate  him  ? 
M«n  is  what  he  is,  and,  with  only  man,  how  am  I  to 
make  him,  or  is  he  to  become,  more  than  he  now  is  f 
Man  only  equals  man.  From  man  I  can  get  only 
man,  and,  with  man  alone,  I  have  and  can  have 
nothing  above  man.  No  man  can  rise  above 
himself,  or  lift  himself  by  his  own  waistband. 
Archimedes  is  reported  to  have  said,  "  Give  me 
whereon  to  stand,  and  I  will  move  the  world;  "  but 


204 


THE   CONVKKr. 


there  is  no  law  of  mechanics  by  which  you  can  raise 
a  body  without  something  distinct  from  it  on  which 
to  rest  the  fulcrum  of  your  lever.  The  ship  cleaves 
its  way  through  the  ocean,  or  the  bird  through  the 
air,  only  by  finding  a  counter-pressure  or  re&isting 
force  in  the  fluid  cleaved.  There  can  be  no  motion 
without  rest,  no  movable  without  the  immovable. 
Nothing  cannot  make  itself  something,  and  the 
imperfect,  without  borrowing  from  what  is  not  itself, 
cannot  make  itself  perfect.  Ex  nihilo  nihil  fit.  My 
new  church,  then,  if  it  is  to  elevate  the  race  and  be 
tlie  means  of  their  progress,  must  embody  a  power 
above  that  which  they  now  have.  Whence  is  that 
power  to  come  ?  How  am  I  to  obtain  it,  ajid 
obtain  it  as  I  must,  without  my  new  church,  and 
obtain  it  as  the  condition  of  organizing  it  ? 

Undoubtedly,  there  is  such  a  phenomenon  as 
growth.  We  see  it  in  vegetables,  in  animals,  in 
II  an  ;  but  all  growth  is  by  accretion,  by  assimilation 
from  abroad.  The  acorn  develops  and  grows  into  ihe 
oak,  only  by  virtue  of  the  substance  it  assimilates  from 
the  soil,  air,  and  light.  It  must  have  food,  appro- 
priate food ;  and  it  is  only  through  assimilating  the 
food  by  a  living  process  determined  by  the  inter- 
nal law  of  the  oak,  that  it  grows  and  expands  into 
the  tree.  So  of  the  whole  animal  world.  No 
nnimal  can  grow  or  even  live  by  itself  alone.  Thur 
is  it  in  the  material  order,  as  all  men  know  and 
concede.  Else  why  the  necessity  of  food,  of  drink  f 
Tlie  spiritual  and  material  correspond,  for  the 
material  does  in  its  order  but  copy  or  imitate  tl.o 


I 


MAN    NO   CHURCII-BriLDKR. 


205 


{Spiritual.  Neither  in  body  nor  soul,  then,  can  man 
j^row  or  make  progress, — for  progress  is  nothing  but 
growth, — with  himself  alone,  or  without  assimilating 
to  himself  appropriate  food  from  abroad.  Progress 
there  may  be,  and  undoubtedly  is,  and  tliis  progress 
is  effected  by  processes  determined  by  the  internal 
law  or  nature  of  man,  but  not  without  the  aid  of 
that  which  is  not  man.  Here  I  derived  no  little  aid 
from  the  writings  of  Pierre  Leroux. 

Pierre  Leroux,  a  French  philosopher  and  politician, 
member  of  the  National  Assembly  in  1848,  whose 
name  was  frequently  heard  under  the  Hepublic 
which  ended  in  the  present  French  Empire,  in 
connection  with  the  socialists  and  the  Banquets  of 
Love,  was  originally  affiliated  to  the  Saint-Simonians, 
and  retains,  or  did  at  my  latest  information,  many 
of  the  principles  of  their  school.  He  is  a  man  of  learn- 
ing, in  whose  head  ferments  a  marvellous  variety  of 
ideas,  and  who,  with  the  exception  of  Malebranche, 
must  be  regarded  as  the  ablest  and  most  original 
philosopher  France  has  produced.  As  a  writer,  he 
lacks  the  repose,  the  classic  grace,  the  sustained 
elegance  and  finish  of  M.  Victor  Cousin,  but  he  is 
free,  bold,  and  energetic.  His  writings  are 
voluminous.  For  some  time  he  edited  the  Rnnte 
EncyclopcdiquCy  in  connection  with  J.  Reynaud. 
He  commenced  in  1836  the  Encyclopedle  Nouvelle^ 
not  yet  finished;  subsequently  he  edited,  in  connec- 
t  ion  with  George  Sand  and  the  late  Abbe  de  Lamen- 
nuis,  the  Bevue  Independantej  in  which  George  Sand 
first  published  her  Consuelo.     He  has  published  a 


2oe 


THE    CONVKUT. 


new  French  translation  of  Plato,  though  whether 
made  by  him  or  by  some  'of  his  disciples  under  his 
direction,  I  am  not  informed ;  and  a  remarkable 
work  in  its  way,  entitled  V Humanity,  My  personal 
knowledge  of  his  writings  is  confined  to  this 
last-mentioned  work,  to  his  Refutation  de  VEclec- 
tismCy  and  his  articles  in  the  New  Encyclopedia.  He 
was  a  fellow-pupil  with  M.  Victor  Cousin,  in  L'Ecole 
Normale,  and  since  the  Revolution  of  July,  has 
appeared  as  his  rival  and  bitter  opponent. 

The  Refutation  de  VEclectisme  was  first  pub- 
lished in  1839,  but  I  first  read  it  in  1841.  It  had 
a  marvellous  effect  in  revolutionizing  my  own  philo- 
sophical views,  or  rather  of  emancipating  me  from 
my  subjection  to  the  Eclectic  school  founded  by 
MM.  Cousin  and  Jouffroy.  Like  most  English  and 
Americans  of  my  generation,  I  had  been  educated 
in  the  school  of  Locke.  From  Locke  I  had  passed  to 
the  Scottish  school  of  Keid  and  Stewart,  and  had 
adhered  to  it  without  well  knowing  what  it  was,  till 
it  was  overthrown  by  Dr.  Thomas  Brown,  who,  in 
the  Introductory  Lectures  to  his  philosophy,  revived 
the  skepticism  of  Hume,  and  drove  me  into  specula- 
tive Atheism,  by  resolving  cause  and  effect  into 
invariable  antecedence  s^nd  consequence,  thus  ex- 
cluding all  idea  of  creative  power  or  productive 
force.  Still  young,  I  rushed  into  pure  sensism  and 
materialism,  and  was  prepared  intellectually  to  join 
with  Frances  Wright  and  her  followers,  when  they 
appeared.  Gradually  I  had  elaborated  a  sort  of 
phUosophical    sentimentalism,     depending    on    the 


MAN   NO   CllUKCn-IILMM>i::t. 


•jo; 


heart  rather  than  the  head,  bearing  some  analogy 
to  the  tendencies  of  Bemardin  de  St.  Pierre,  Madame 
de  Stael,  Benjamin  Constant,  Ch&teaubriand,  Adam 
Smith,  and  the  German  Jacobi.  In  this  half-dream- 
ing state,  with  vague  feelings,  and  vaguer  notions, 
I  encountered  the  philosophical  writings  of  M, 
Cousin,  first,  I  think,  in  1833,  and  yielded  almost 
entirely  to  the  witchery  of  his  style,  the  splend  r  of 
his  diction,  the  brilliancy  of  his  generalizations,  and 
the  real  power  of  his  genius,  although  I  made  from 
first  to  last  certain  reserves. 

M.  Victor  Cousin  was  born  in  1792,  and  his 
original  destination  was  literature ;  but  captivated 
by  the  Legons  of  M.  Laromigui^re  and  M.  Royer- 
CoUard,  he  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  philosophy. 
He  was  first  rdpteit^r,  and  then  professor  of  pliiL)- 
sophy  in  the  Normal  School,  subsequently  professor 
of  tlie  History  of  Philosophy  in  the  Faculty  of  Letters 
at  Paris.  His  first  Course,  which  has  been  published, 
was  given  in  1816,  and  is  most  remarkable  as  the 
production  of  a  young  philosopher  not  twenty-five 
years  of  age.  His  Course  for  the  half  year  of 
1828,  and  his  full  Course  for  1829,  and  his  Fragments 
Philoso][)hiques,  collected  and  published  in  1826, 
with  an  elaborate  preface,  were  the  first  of  his 
writings  that  came  into  my  hands  ^  and  they  remain, 
as  modified  in  subsequent  editions,  his  principal 
philosophical  works  up  to  the  present  time.  He  has 
edited  the  works  of  Proclus  and  Descartes,  and  the 
previously  unpublished  works  of  Abelard,  preceded 
by  a  history  of  the  Scholastic  Philosophy.     He  has 


208 


THK   CONVEUT. 


also  published  a  translation  into  beautiful  French, 
hardly  inferior  to  the  original  Greek,  of  the  Complete 
Works  of  Plato,  with  an  Introduction  and  Notes  to 
most  of  the  Dialogues,  in  thirteen  volumes  octavo, 
with  the  promise  of  a  new  Life  of  the  author,  and  a 
Critical  Judgment  of  his  philosophy,  which  have 
not  yet  appeared.  Latterly  he  has  published  a  new 
edition  of  one  of  his  earlier  Courses  under  the  title 
of  Le  Vrai,  Le  BcaUj  ct  Le  Bien,  The  True,  The 
Beautiful,  and  The  Good,  and  some  admirable 
Studies  of  the  literature  of  the  seventeenth  century 
grouped  around  Pascal,  the  Duchess  de  Longueville, 
Madame  de  Sable,  etc.  As  he  grows  older,  he  seems 
to  turn  more  towards  religious  ideas,  and  to  mani- 
fest less  disrespect  for  Christianity  and  the  Church. 
In  politics  he  is  a  constitutionalist,  or  what  w.'is 
formerly  termed  a  Doctrinaire;  and,  under  the 
Republic  of  1848,  he  acted  for  the  most  part  with 
the  conservative  majority.  I  was  not  the  first  of 
his  disciples  in  this  country,  but  I  was  among  his 
most  ardent  admirers,  and  perhaps  contributed  more 
than  any  other  one  man  to  draw  the  attention  of 
American  thinkers  to  his  philosophy. 

Gioberti,  in  a  note  of  two  hundred  pages  or  more 
to  the  third  volume  of  his  Introduzione  alio  Studio 
delta  Filosqfia^  has  pointed  out  and  refuted  in  a 
masterly  manner  the  errors  of  M.  Cousin's  doctrine 
<»n  ontology,  creation,  and  moral  liberty,  but  he 
speaks,  in  my  judgment,  too  slightingly  of  his 
philosophical  genius,  as  he  does  also  of  Leroux's. 
Whoever   has    read   attentively    the    philosophical 


HAN   NO   CHUKCH-BUILDER. 


209 


le 
le 

Is 


writings  of  the  illustrious  Italian,  cannot  fail  to 
perceive  that  he  has  been  far  more  indebted  to  these 
two  Frenchmen,  whom  he  affects  to  despise,  than  it 
pleases  him  to  acknowledge.  Neither  can  I  agroo 
with  the  Italian  that  JouffVoy,  the  most  distinguiMhoil 
of  M.  Cousin's  early  disciples,  had  a  truer  aiul  loftier 
philosophical  genius  than  his  master.  Yet  Joutfroy, 
who  died  too  young  for  philosophy,  or  for  his  own 
fame,  was  no  doubt  a  superior  man,  a  clear,  syste- 
matic, and  logical  thinker,  with  an  amiable  disposition 
and  a  transparent  soul,  who  never  ceased  to  regret 
the  loss  of  his  early  Catholic  faith,  which  I  would 
gladly  believe  he  recovered  before  his  death ;  but 
he  never  rose  above  the  Scottish  school,  and  died 
uttering  his  protest  against  philosophy.  His  great 
merit,  and  the  highest  proof  he  gave  of  his  philo- 
sophical genius,  was  in  perceiving  the  worthlessness 
of  the  philosophy  he  had  been  teaching,  and  its 
vast  inferiority  to  the  Catechism  he  had  rejected. 
He  had  not,  however,  the  genius  that  penetrates 
through  the  mass  of  errors,  and  seizes  tlie  great, 
living,  and  eternal  tj*uth,  which  so  many  philosophers 
misapprehend,  misinterpret,  and  misapply.  But,  be 
all  this  as  it  may,  I  acknowledge  willingly  my 
indebtedness  in  philosophy  to  both  M.  Victor  Cousin 
and  to  M.  Theodore  Jouffroy,  who  have  served  me 
hardly  less  by  their  errors  than  by  their  truths. 

M.  Cousin  had  labored  to  combine  the  method  of 
the  psychologists  with  that  of  the  new  German  school 
of  Schelling  and  Hegel.  He  starts  with  the  facts  of 
consciousness,  and  professes^  by  careful  observation 


210 


TIIK    C'ONVKi; 


and  rigid  induction^  to  riso  to  the  ideas  of  the  True, 
the  Beautiful)  and  the  Good,  and  then,  from  these 
necessary,  absolute  ideas,  as  he  calls  them,  to  descend 
to  the  region  of  psychology,  and  by  their  light  to 
verify  anew  the  facts  of  consciousness,  previously 
analyzed.     But  these  absolute  ideas,  what  are  they  T 
M.  Cousin  makes  them  the  constituent  elements  of 
reason.     But  of  what  reason  ?    The  Divine    or  the 
human  ?  If  of  the  Divine,  how  does  our  intelligence 
grasp  them  ?     If  of  the  human,  how  determine  their 
objective  validity,  or,  to  use  the  language   of  the 
schoolmen,  their  existence  a  _parfe  reit    M.  Cousin's 
answer  is  confused  and  unsatisfactory.     Reason,  he 
maintains,  is  indeed  constituted  by  these  ideas,  they 
me  its  constituent  elements ;  but  the  reason   they 
constitute  is  the  spontaneous  and  impersonal  reason, 
not  our   personal  or   reflective   reason.     Therefore 
these  absolute  ideas  are  objective  in  relation  to  our 
personality,  that  is  to  say,  to  our  principle  of  vol- 
untary activity,  le  moij  the  me.     But  what  is  this 
impersonal,  spontaneous  reason,  operating   without 
our  voluntary'  activity!     Is  it  essentially   distinct 
from  the  personal  or  reflective  reason  ?     M.  Cousin 
tells  us  that  it  is  not;  that  there  are  not  two  reasons ; 
that  spontaneity  and  reflection  are  simply  two  modes 
in  which  one  and  the  same  reason  operates.     Then 
tliis  one  reason — is  it  objective  or  subjective?     Is  it 
the  Divine  reason,  or  is  it  a  faculty  of  the  human 
soul  ? 

M.  Cousin  maintains  that  it  is  the  Divine  reason, 
nr.d  at  the  same  time  a  faculty  of  the  human  so^il. 


M' 


MAN    NO   ClIURCII-nUILDEi:. 


'211 


hen 

[a  it 
nan 

son, 


But  licrc  is  a  grave  difficulty.     How  make  the  Divine 
reason^  indistinguishable  from  the  Divine  Being  or 
Essence,  a  human  faculty,  and  therefore  essentially 
human,  without  identifying  Qod  and  man,  and  falling 
into  pure  pantheism  or  pure  atheism  f     To  escape 
this   difficulty,  M.    Cousin    attempts    to   distinguish 
between  God  and  reason,  between  the  Divine  Being 
and  the  Logos,  and  to  present  the  Divine  reason,  not 
as  God,  but  as  the  Word  of  God.     In    this,  how- 
ever, he  misapprehends  the  Christian  dogma  of  the 
Trinity,  on  which  he  professes  to  found  his  distinction, 
and  falls  into  a   grave  ontological   error.     In    the 
Christian  dogma  of  the  Trinity,  the   distinction  of 
being  is  denied,  and  the  Logos  is  asserted  to  be  one 
in  essence  with  the  Father.     Besides,  the  Logos,  if 
not  one   in  essence  with   God,  and  therefore   reallv 
and  truly  God,  is  creature  j    for  between  God  and 
creature  there  is  no  middle  existence.     What  is  not 
creature  is  God,  and  what  is  not  God  is  creature. 
If  your  spontaneous  reason  is  God,  then  you  make 
God  and  man  identical;  if  you  distinguish  it  from 
God,  you  make  it  creature,  simply  human  reason,  a 
faculty  of  the  human  soul,  and  therefore  remain  still 
in   the  region  of  psychology.     Your  absolute  ideas 
are    only    subjectively    absolute,    and    the    inquiry 
returns,  How  establish  their  objectivity,  or  existence 
a  parte  rei  t 

This  question  M.  Cousin  has  never  to  my  know- 
ledge answered,  and  therefore  has  never  really 
advanced  beyond  the  subjectivism  of  Kant,  which, 
elsewhere,  be  so  effectually  refutes.     It  was  always 


212 


THE   CONVERT. 


M ; 


an  objection  in  my  mind  to  his  philosophy.     His 
absolute  ideas  of  the  True,  the  Beautiful,  and  the 
Good,  which  he  labors  to  identify  with  God,  were, 
after  all,  on  his  hypothesis,  only  abstractions,  and 
could  give  me  only  an  abstract  God,  and  no  living 
God,  no  real   God   at   all.     Here    Leroux,  who    is 
regarded  by  not  a  few  as  an  atheist,  and  who  does 
I'all,  in  his  Humanitd^  into  the  Hegelian  pantheism, 
came  to  my  aid,  by  directing  my  attention  to  the 
simple  analysis  of  thought,   or  to  what  M.  Cousin 
calls  *^  the  fact  of  consciousness."     M.  Cousin  him- 
self had  said,  thought,  or  the  fact  of  consciousness, 
is  a  phenomenon  with  three  elements,  subject,  obje  jt, 
and   their  relation.     The  subject    is  always   le  mciy 
or  the  thinker,  the  object   is  always  le  non-moij  or 
something  standing  over  against    the  subject,  and 
independent  of  it ;  and  the  relation  is  the  form  of  the 
thought.     M.  Leroux  adopts   this,  and  shows  that 
thought   is   a   synthesis   and  the    resultant   of  two 
factors.     The  subject  cannot  think  without  the  con- 
currence of  the  object,  and  the  object  cannot   be 
thought  without  the  concurrence  of  the  subject,  or 
thinker.     The  subject  and   object  are  both  given 
simultaneously  in  one  and  the  same  thought  or  act^ 
and  therefore  the  reality  of  the  one  is  as  certain  a'j 
that  of  the  other.     The  object  affirms  itself  in  the 
fict  of  consciousness  as  object,  as  distinct  from,  and 
independent  oi,  the  subject;  and  the  subject  recog- 
nizes itself  as    subject,   as    thinker,  and    therefore 
i\s  distinct  from  and   opposed    to   the  object.     This 
stripped  philosophy  of  its  mystery,  divested  it  of  its 


M 


MAN  Nv/  r"ii:(!i-]irn,iji:ij. 


213 


|l)is 
its 


endless  abstractions  and  vain  subtilties,  and  harmo- 
nized it  with  the  common-sense  of  mankind. 

Man  cannot  think  without  an  object,  and,  being 
finite,  he  can  never  be  his  own  object.     Only  God 
can   be   the  object   of  his   own  intelligence,  or  be 
intelligent  without  other  than  himself;  man,  what- 
ever else  he  is,  is  a  dependent  being,  and  is  in  no 
instance,  in  no  respect,  alone  sufficient  for  himself. 
He  is  not  intelligent  in  himself,  because  he  is  not 
intelligible   in   himself.     There   is   and  can    be  no 
intelHgence  where  there  is  no  intelligible,  or  nothing 
that  can  be  known.     We  cannot  see  where  there  is 
nothing  to  be  seen.     What  is  not  is  not  intelligible. 
That  which  does  not  exist  cannot  be  an  object  of 
thought ;  for  it  is  not,  and  therefore  cannot  present 
anything  to  the  mind,  can  present  no  resistance  or 
counterpressure  to  the    mental  force.     The   object, 
then,  is  alwa,ys  real,  and  no  thought  ever  is  or  ever 
can  be  totally  false  or  purely  subjective.     A  further 
question  may  be  raised,  indeed,  as  to  the  light  by 
which  the  object  is  thought,  or  as  to  the  inteliigiblo 
medium  of  thought, — a  question  which  Malebranclie 
attempted  to    solve   by  what   he   called  *'  vision   in 
God,"  and  which  M.  Coasin  comes  near  solving  in 
asserting  that  absolute  ideas  are  intuitive.     But  M. 
Cousin  fails  precisely  where  Plato  before  him  failed, 
by  not  distinguishing  the  idea  as  archetype  in  tlu; 
Divine  reason  from  idea  as  the  essence  or  realitv 
of  the  thing,  regarded  as  the  object  of  our  science. 
He  fails  to  distinguish  reason  as  Divine  from  reason 
as  a  human  faculty,  and  to  point  out  the  rcil  relation 


214 


THE    COXVKKT. 


which  subsists  between  tliem.  He  makes  only  a 
modal  distinction,  which  is  not  sufEcient  to  save  him 
from  pantheism,  and  fails  to  perceive  that  the  Divine 
reason  is  the  human  reason  only  through  the  medium 
of  the  Divine  creative  act, — mediante  actu  creativo 
divino.  The  Divine  reason,  indistinguishable  from 
the  Divine  Essence  or  Being,  at  once  creates  the 
human  reason,  and  presents  itself  as  its  light  and  its 
immediate  object.  We  see  all  things  in  God,  as  we 
see  visible  objects  in  the  light  which  illuminates 
them,  though  not  simply  as  ideas  in  the  Divine 
mind,  as  Malebranche  appears  to  have  held  j  for  we 
see  existences  themselves  in  their  concretencss  and 
reality,  not  merely  their  ideas,  or  possibility  of 
being  created. 

Having  settled  it,  that  man  does  not  suffice  for 
himself  in  the  intellectual  order,  that  he  cannot 
even  think  himself  without  thinking  what  is  not 
lilmself,  or  without  the  concurrence  of  the  object 
with  the  subject,  I  learned  from  Leroux  that  the 
sune  principle  extends  to  all  our  acts,  and  that  no 
act  of  life  is  possible  without  the  concurrence  of  the 
object.  Man  lives  and  can  live  only  by  communion 
with  what  is  not  himself.  In  himself  alone,  cut  off 
from  all  not  himself,  he  is  neither  a  progressive  nor 
u  living  being.  His  body  must  have  food  from  with- 
out, and  so  must  his  heart  and  his  soul.  Hence  his 
flevation,  his  progress,  as  well  as  his  very  existence, 
depend  on  the  object.  He  cannot  lift  himself,  but 
must  be  lifted,  by  placing  him  in  communion  with  a 
higher  and  elevating  object. 


MAN    NO    CIIUKCH-BUILDEK. 


215 


I  his 
ice, 
ibut 
lb  a 


This  will  be  the  more  evident,  if  we  bear  in  mind 
that  the  fact,  any  fact,  of  human  life  is  the  joint 
product  of  the  subject  and  object,  and  therefore 
partakes  of  the  character  of  each.  This  is  a  fact  of 
no  inconsiderable  importance,  and  enables  us  to  ex- 
plain many  things  certain  from  observation,  from 
human  experience,  but  which  philosophy  has  hither- 
to failed  to  explain.  "  Evil  communications  corrupt 
good  manners,"  is  a  proverb  as  old  as  human  experi- 
ence, but  has  philosophy  hitherto  explained  it  ?  Why 
is  it  that  association  with  the  great  and  good  im- 
provCto  our  manners  and  our  morals  ?  I  meet  a 
great  and  good  man,  I  hold  intercourse  or  com- 
munion with  him,  and  am  never  after  what  1  wns 
before.  I  feel  that  a  virtue  has  gone  forth  from 
him  and  entered  into  my  life,  so  tha,t  I  am  not,  and 
never  can  be  again,  the  man  I  was  before  I  met 
him.  What  is  the  explanation  of  this  fact  ?  How 
happens  it  that  I  am  benefited  by  my  intercourse 
with  the  good,  and  injured  by  my  intercourse  with 
tlie  bad  i  How  is  it  that  one  man  is  able  to  influ- 
once  another,  whether  for  good  or  for  evil  I  What 
is  the  meaning  of  influence  itself?  Influence,  in- 
flowing, flowing-in, — what  is  this  but  the  very  fact 
I  assert,  that  our  life  is  the  joint  product  of  subject 
and  object  I  Man  lives,  and  can  live  only  by  com- 
munion with  that  which  is  not  himself.  This  must 
be  said  of  every  living  dependent  existence.  Only 
(Jod  can  live  in,  from,  and  by  himself  alone,  unin- 
fluenced and  unaffected  by  anything  distinguishablo 
from  his  own  being.     But  ^^an  ia  not  God,  is  not 


•2\{] 


thp:  conveut. 


being  in  himself^  is  not  complete  being,  and  must 
find  out  of  himself  both  his  being  and  its  complete- 
ness. He  lives  not  in  and  from  himself  alone,  but 
does  and  must  live  in  and  by  the  life  of  another. 

Cut  off  man  from  all  communion  with  external 
nature,  and  he  dies,  for  he  has  no  sustenance  for  his 
body,  and  must  starve;  cut  him  off  from  all  cowi- 
inuniou  with  moral  nature,  and  he  dies,  starves, 
morally;  cut  him  off  from  all  moral  communion 
with  a  life  above  his  own,  and  he  stagnates,  and  can 
make  no  progress.  All  this  everybody  knows  and 
concedes.  Then,  to  elevate  man,  to  give  him  a  higher 
and  nobler  life,  you  must  give  him  a  higher  and 
nobler  object,  a  higher  and  nobler  life  with  which  to 
commune.  To  elevate  his 'subjective  life,  you  must 
elevate  his  objective  life.  From  the  object  must 
flow  into  him  a  higher  virtue,  an  elevating  element. 
Thus  far  I  followed  Leroux,  but  I  did  not  and  could 
not  follow  him  in  all  his  applications  of  the  great 
piinciple  he  had  helped  me  to  grasp  and  understand. 
He  sought  to  apply  the  principle  in  an  un-Christian 
sense ;  I  saw,  or  thought  I  saw,  in  it  the  means  of 
placing  myself  more  in  harmony  with  the  common 
beliefs  of  Christendom,  without  violence  to  my  reason. 

"Man,"  said  Leroux,  *' lives  by  communion  with 
his  object— with  nature,  with  his  fellow-men,  and 
with  God.  He  communes  with  nature  through  prop- 
erty, with  his  fellow-men  through  family  and  the 
State,  and  with  God  through  humanity."  In  the 
first  two  statements  he  is  right,  and  asserts  a  solid 
basis   for   property,    family,   and    the    State,  three 


>( 


ta  «i  iHAii  h 


•c. 


iil'Xi 


bill 


(i 


MAX    NO   C    I'KCII-nUILDKR. 


217 


institutions  which  are  indispensable  to  human  life; 
and  which,  however  they  may  be  warred  against, 
are  really  as  indestructible  as  human  nature  itself. 
But  in  the  third  statement  he  adds  nothing,  for,  to 
commune  with  God  through  humanity  is  nothing 
else  than  to  commune  with  our  kind,  or  with  other 
men  in  the  family  and  the  State.  Man  can  live,  and 
the  majority  of  men  do  live,  with  only  the  first  two 
communions  named,  but  he  can  so  live  only  the  life 
of  the  human  animal, — an  unprogressive  life,  which 
can  never  rise  to  the  Divine.  Leroux  knew  this, 
and  as  he  believed  firmly  in  progress,  in  the  pro- 
gressiveness  of  the  race,  nay,  of  nature,  indeed  of 
all  natures,  he  asserted  as  its  condition,  communion 
with  God  ;  but  as  he  conceived  God  as  actual  only 
in  existences,  he  asserted  for  us  only  the  communion 
with  God  through  humanity,  which  was  in  effect 
simply  no  communion  with  God  at  all,  and  supplied 
and  could  supply  no  objective  element  to  our  life 
above  that  which  we  already  have,  and  cannot  as 
men  but  have. 

Leroux  never  fairly  understood  his  own  philo- 
Bophy.  His  analysis  of  thought  had  given  him  the 
foundation  of  true  realism  in  opposition  to  the  Kan> 
tian  subjectivism  or  idealism ;  but  the  moment  he 
had  finished  his  analysis  of  thought,  and  proved  to 
us  that  the  life  of  every  man  is  the  joint  product  of 
subject  and  object,  and  therefore  partaking  alike  of 
the  character  of  each,  he  fell  into  the  precise  error 
which  I  have  pointed  out  in  the  case  of  Cousin,  that 
of  confounding  the  ideal  with  the  real.     He  even 

10 


(!:i>'it 


218 


THE   CONVERT. 


went  farther,  and  asserted,  in  violation  of  his  whole 
ontology,  the  power  of  the  ideal,  which  he  himself 
identifies  with  the  possible,  to  realize  or  actualize 
itself, — the  very  error  I  had  detected  in  myself,  and 
which  he  more  than  any  other  had  enabled  me  to 
detect.  Subsequently,  I  believe,  in  his  refutation  oi 
Hegel,  he  professes  to  refute  this  error ;  but  in  his 
Refutation  of  JEclecticisnij  and  his  huge  work  on 
Humanity,  he  asserted  God  as  the  Void  of  the  Bud- 
dhists, the  infinite  possibility  of  the  universe,  which 
the  universe  is  continually  actualizing,  and  hence 
its  progress.  Yet  he  had  asserted  direct  intuition 
of  God,  that  we  think  God^  and  God  must  really  be, 
or  we  could  not  think  him. 

All  the  contradiction  or  absurdity  of  his  theology 
I  did  not  at  the  moment  perceive,  because  my  mind 
was  taken  up  with  his  doctrine,  that  human  life  is  the 
resultant  of  two  forces,  of  the  intercommunion  of 
subject  and  object,  from  which  I  drew  a  further  con- 
clusion than  that  drawn  by  Leroux  himself.  I  drew 
from  it  the  conclusion  that  man  is  not  and  cannot  be 
in  himself  progressive,  and  that  his  progress  depends 
on  the  objective  element  of  his  life,  or,  in  other 
words,  on  his  living  in  communion  with  God,  and 
not  only  in  a  natural  communion,  as  held  by  Leroux, 
but  also  in  a  supernatural  communion.  If  God 
vouchsafes  us  no  communion  with  him  but  that 
which  we  have  with  him  in  our  own  natures  and  the 
natural  objects  in  relation  with  which  we  are  placed, 
we  cannot  advance  beyond  or  rise  above  what  we 
are,  for  of  that  communion  we  have  never  for  a 


HAN   NO   ClIUKCil  BUILDER. 


219 


moment  been  deprived,  and  never  could  have  been 
deprived.  God,  as  the  divine  object  of  our  life, 
must  present  himself  in  a  higher  order,  or  we  are 
not  elevated  above  or  advanced  beyond  what  we  al- 
ready are.  I  was  obliged,  then,  either  to  give  up 
all  my  hopes  of  progress,  or  abandon  my  doctrine  of 
no  God  but  the  God  in  man,  or  the  identity  of  the 
human  and  the  Divine.  I  must  recognize  God  as 
superior  to  humanity,  independent  of  nature,  and 
intervening  as  Providence  in  human  affairs,  and 
giving  us,  so  to  speak,  more  of  himself,  than  he  gives 
in  nature.  Here,  though  still  far  enough  from  the 
truth,  I  had  entered  into  the  order  of  religious  ideas, 
and  was  headed,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  in  the 
direction  of  real  Christian  beliefs,  and  began  to  sus- 
pect that  I  might  believe  as  the  Christian  world  had 
iilways  believed,  without  abandoning  my  reason,  or 
duing  it  the  least  violence.  This  filled  me  with  an 
inexpressible  joy.  I  need  not  always  stand  alone,  and 
pine  in  vain  for  sympathy  with  my  kind.  I,  too, 
may  one  day  cuter  the  brotherhood  of  believers. 


-V 


hu  : 


i! 


CHAPTER  XV. 


PROVIDENTIAL  MEN. 


PiERSE  Leroux  was  not,  like  myself,  wholly  igno« 
rant  of  Catholic  theology,  and  he  was  able  to  give 
me  some  glimpses  of  what  is  called  by  my  Puseyite 
friends,  "  the  Sacramental  System."  He  knew  the 
Catholic  doctrine  of  grace,  and  made  use  of  it  in 
explaining  his  doctrine  of  progress.  His  aim  was 
to  find  a  philosophical  equivalent  for  the  infused 
habits  of  grace,  asserted  by  the  Church,  but  rejected 
by  all  classes  of  Protestants,  and  which  I  had  not  at 
that  time  even  so  much  as  heard  of  j  but  in  his  effort 
to  do  this,  and  to  show  that  what  Catholics  mean  by 
infused  habits,  is  attainable  by  the  natural  communion 
of  man  with  man,  or  of  the  individual  with  the  race, 
he  enabled  me  to  see  that  grace  might  be  infused,  in 
accordance  with  the  law  of  all  life,  and  without  the 
slightest  violence  to  nature  or  reason. 

According  to  the  law  of  all  dependent  life,  man 
lives  not  by  himself  alone,  but  by  communion  with 
an  object  not  himself;  and  his  actual  life  partakes 
alike  of  the  object  and  the  subject,  of  which  it  is  the 
joint  product.  In  the  fact  of  life,  the  object  is  not 
passive,  but  active,  as  active,  to  say  the  least,  as 


1 


PltOVIDENTIAL   MEN. 


001 


the  subject ,  for,  if  purely  passive,  it  would  offer  no 
counteraction  to  the  subject,  and  be  practically  no 
object  at  ail.  The  object  acts  on  the  subject  no 
less  than  the  subject  on  the  object.  They  mutually 
act  and  react  on  each  other,  and  in  their  mutual  ac- 
tion and  reaction  the  fact  of  life  is  generated.  The 
object  by  its  action  flows  into  the  subject,  and  becomes 
a  real  element  of  the  life  of  the  subject.  If,  then,  we 
suppose  the  object  supernaiiurally  elevated,  the  life 
of  the  subject  will  be  elevated  also,  and  his  progress 
secured.  Now,  as  I  held  that  the  Divine,  though 
distinguishable  in  reality  from  the  human,  could 
flow  into  us  only  through  the  human,  I  saw  that,  by 
a  Providential  elevation  of  individuals  by  the 
Creator  to  an  extraordinary  or  supernatural  com- 
munion with  himself,  they  would  live  a  divine  life, 
and  we  by  communion  with  them  would  also  be  ele- 
vated, and  live  a  higher  and  more  advanced  life. 
Thus  the  elevation  and  progress  of  the  race  would 
be  provided  for  in  accordance  with  the  law  of  life, 
by  the  aid  of  these  individuals  Providentially  ele- 
vated, and  called  by  Leroux,  "  Providential  Men." 

In  this,  though  I  had  by  no  means  reached  the 
Catholic  thought,  I  was  enabled  to  conceive  the 
natural  and  the  supernatural  as  corresponding  one 
to  the  other ;  and  that  it  is  possible  for  God  to  afford 
us  supernatural  aid  without  violence  to  our  natures, 
and  without  suspending,  superseding,  or  impairing 
tlie  laws  of  our  natural  life.  This,  to  one  who  had 
been  accustomed  to  hold  that  nature  and  grace,  rea- 
son and  revelation,  can  be  asserted  only  as  mutually 


222 


THE  CONVEBT. 


lllf 


IHi! 


repugnant  one  to  the  other,  that  the  one  cannot  be 
asserted,  as  Calvinism,  indeed  all  Eyangelicalism, 
had  taught  me,  without  denying  the  other,  was  no 
slight  advance.  Moreover,  it  placed  me  in  harmony 
with  the  universal  belief  of  the  race,  for  the  human 
race  has  universally  attributed  all  its  elevation  and 
progress  to  God  through  inspired  Prophets,  Apostles, 
Messiases, — in  a  word,  Providential  men,  or  men 
raised  up  and  extraordinarily  endowed  by  the  Crea- 
tor, to  aid  his  creature,  man,  in  his  ceaseless  march 
through  the  ages.  In  an  essay  on  Conversatism  and 
Reform,  published  January,  1842,  but  written  in 
the  previous  November,  I  say : — 

^^  Errors  are  peculiar  to  no  one  class  of  men. 
They  who  are  called  Reformers,  and  they  who  are 
called  Conservatives,  both  err;  not  because  they 
advocate  or  oppose  progress,  but  in  their  adoption 
and  application  of  means  to  obtain  the  end  common 
to  them  all.  They  are  all  brethren,  their  faces  are 
really  all  the  same  way ;  but  they  all,  in  no  small 
degree,  mistake  the  most  effectual  means  of  setting 
humanity  forward.  Our  Transcendental  theologians, 
save  so  far  as  they  are  animated  by  an  intenser  zeal 
than  their  opponents,  are  no  more  the  party  of  the 
future,  are  no  more  reformers,  than  the  others. 
They  err  by  mistaking,  in  no  small  degree,  both  the 
end  and  the  means.  Their  merit  consists  in  their 
assertion  of  the  inspiration  of  all  men,  and  thereby 
declaring  that  all  men  stand  in  intimate  relation 
with  their  Maker.  This  is  a  great  and  glorious 
truth,  but  by  no   means  the   whole  truth.      Their 


PROVIDENTIAL   BIKX. 


223 


no 


in 


opponents,  in  rejecting  this  truth,  are  wrong,  and  are 
niiscliievous  in  their  influence.  But  these  opponents 
contend  for  another  truth  equally  great,  and  equally, 
if  not  more,  essential, — the  special  inspiration  of 
individual  messengers,  as  the  Providential  agents  of 
the  progress  of  the  human  race. 

"  The  tendency  of  the  Transcendental  theologians 
is  to  overlook  the  agency  of  these  special  messengers, 
these  Providential  men,  and  to  assert  the  sufficiency 
of  the  inspiration  common  to  all  men.  Hence  Bibles 
and  Messiases  are  to  them  but  natural  occurrences, 
and  entitled  to  no  special  reverence  or  authority. 
Through  the  aid  of  Bibles  and  Messiases  they  have 
grown  so  large,  that  they  fancy  Bibles  and  Messiases 
are  no  longer  necessary — nay,  that  they  were  never 
necessary.  We  have  no  sympathy  with  this  ten- 
dency. Undoubtedly,  all  men  stand  in  intimate 
relation  with  their  Maker ;  undoubtedly,  all  men  are 
inspired,  for  all  men  love ;  undoubtedly,  many  of  the 
great  essential  elements  of  religious  faith  have  been 
so  far  assimilated  to  the  life  of  humanity  as  to  be 
now  natural  religion,  and  therefore  no  longer  need- 
ing, with  the  more  advanced  nations  of  the  earth,  a 
positive  supernatural  revelation  either  to  assert  them 
or  to  confirm  their  authority ;  but,  after  all,  it  is 
mainly  through  the  agency  of  specially  inspired  and 
extraordinarily  endowed  individuals,  that  the  race 
itself  is  improved,  and  through  Bibles,  Pr^ph^tsy,'!  13 
Messiases,  Revelators,  that  it  has  attained  it^^^sent  "" 

growth.     God  is  nearer  to  us  than  Tc^^Wendental   .vN*^ 
theology  teaches.     He  is  near  us,  notn^rely  in  t^S^^ 


THE   COXVKKT. 


H 


I  ; 


fixed  and  uniform  laws  of  nature;  but  also  in  his 
Providonce^  taking  free  and  voluntary  care  of  us,  and 
tempering  all  events  to  our  strength  and  convic- 
tions. God  is  not  a  resistless  fate,  an  iron  destiny, 
inaccessible  to  human  prayers,  which  no  tears,  no 
•entreaties,  no  contrition,  can  move;  but  a  merciful 
Father,  who  hears  when  his  children  cry,  and  is 
ready,  able,  and  willing  to  supply  all  their  wants. 
True,  we  see  him  not,  know  him  not,  save  in  Wis 
manifestation Sf  save  in  the  effects  he  produces,  and 
so  far  as  by  his  power  and  love  he  enters  into  his 
creatures.  But  this  we  know,  that  we  have  never 
sought  help  of  him  in  vain,  and  have  never  gone  to 
him  with  a  broken  and  contrite  spirit  without  finding 
relief.  We  see  a  special  as  well  as  a  general  Provi- 
dence in  the  history  of  individuals  and  of  the  race. 
All  is  not  the  result  of  natural  tendencies.  liloses, 
no  doubt,  embodies  in  himself  all  the  tendencies  of 
his  people,  but  how  much  more !  These  tendencies 
did  not  produce  him  and  his  legislation,  for  ages  on 
ages  were  needed  for  his  people  to  come  up  to  his 
level,  to  reach  the  point  where  his  legislation  must 
cease  to  be  an  ideal  for  humanity.  The  absurdest 
of  all  theories  is  that  which  would  make  Moses  the 
natural  production  of  his  age  and  people,  and  that 
people  utterly  incapable  of  comprehending  him,  so 
sunk  in  ignorance  as,  the  moment  his  presence  was 
withdrawn,  to  fall  down  and  worship  a  golden  calf. 

"  We  have,  indeed,  no  sympathy  with  Jewish 
exclusiveness,  none  with  the  doctrine  which  teaches 
that  God  disinherited  all  nations  but  the  Jewish, 


riJOVIl>i:NII\L    MEN. 


and,  we  may  add,  just  as  little  with  the  modem 
doctrine,  that, 

'Out  from  the  heart  of  Nature  loU'd 
The  burdens  of  the  Bible  Old  ; 
The  Litnniefl  of  Nations  came, 
Like  the  Volcano's  tongue  of  flame. 
Up  from  the  burning  core  below,— 
The  Canticles  of  Love  and  Woe/ 

'^This  is  to  mistake  the  effect  for  the  cause. 
These  litanies  came  not  from  the  *  burning  core 
below/  but  they  came  from  God,  and  kindled  that 

*  burning  core/  They  originated  not  in  the  human 
heart,  sprang  not  from  the  efforts  of  the  soul  to  utter 
or  to  satisfy  its  own  inherent  wants ;  but  they  came 
from  abroad,  to  create  in  the  soul  a  deep  want  for 
God,  and  to  make  the  heart  and  the  flesh  cry  out 
for  the  living  God,  Tell  us  not  that  nature  has 
produced  the  Bible.  Man  has  not  degenerated,  he 
lives  in  as  close  communion  with  nature  as  ever — 
has  the  same  senses,  the  same  soul,  the  same  '  burning 
core,*  and  yet  out  from  his  heart  no  Bible  rolls  its 

*  burdens.' 

*'  Christianity  is  no  natural  production.  It  had, 
no  doubt,  its  reason  in  the  age  in  which  it  was  born  •, 
it  was,  no  doubt,  that  to  which  all  preceding  pro- 
gross  pointed,  which  all  the  previous  tendencies  of 
the  race  demanded  as  their  fulfilment ;  but  if  it 
was  the  mere  natural  and  inevitable  result  of  j)re- 
vious  development  of  the  human  race,  why  appeared 
it  not  first  where  that  development  was  most  mani- 
fest ?     Why  was  not  its  first  appearance  in  Athens, 


2:g 


'  \ 


I  ! 


I!  i 


••;| 


I 


r< 


THE  CONVERT. 


Homey  or  Alexandria,  the  Temples,  the  Mysteries, 
or  tlie  Schools,  instead  of  a  by-corner  of  the  world, 
in  an  obscure  hamlet,  in  the  person  of  an  obscure 
peasant,  followed  by  humble  fishermen  and  despised 
publicans  %  Had  the  tendencies  of  the  age  reached 
farthest,  and  become  most  manifest,  the  develop- 
ment of  the  race  most  advanced  with  the  fishermen 
and  boatmen  of  the  Lake  of  Genesarethf  Un- 
doubtedly, Christianity  was  the  last  word  of  Oriental 
and  Grecian  philosophies,  a  word  for  the  utterance  ' 
of  which  all  previous  Providences  had  been  prepar- 
in<^  the  way,  but  a  word  which  none  but  God  could 
utter;  and  not  till  he  had  uttered  it  in  thunder- 
tones  from  his  dwelling  in  the  heavens,  and  his  well- 
beloved  Son  had  echoed  it  from  the  cross  and  the 
tomb,  could  the  nations  hear  it,  and  leap  at  the 
sound. 

^'  Nor  let  it  be  supposed  that,  in  clinging  to  the 
Bible  and  to  Jesus,  men  are  mere  conservatives, 
that  they  have  no  aspirations.  Some  of  the  truths 
of  the  Bible  have  been  assimilated ;  a  portion,  if  we 
may  so  speak,  of  the  Divine  life  of  Jesus,  has  be- 
come the  life  of  Christendom.  Some  portion  of  the 
Christian  Ideal  has  been  realized.  But  not  all. 
There  are  depths  in  that  old  Hebrew  book  which  no 
human  plummet  has  sounded ;  heights  in  the  life 
of  Jesus  which  no  human  imagination  has  scaled. 
In  contending  for  the  Christianity  of  the  Bible  and 
of  .lesus,  we  are  not  looking  back,  but  forward ;  for 
we  are  contending  for  truths  far,  far  in  advance  of 
our  age.     Here  is   the   truth   of  those    who   war 


PROVIDENTIAL   MEN. 


227 


against  what  is  called  Transcendental  theology. 
Tliey  see,  as  well  they  may,  in  the  rich  store-houses 
of  the  Gospel,  of  the  Bible,  of  Christ,  enough  for 
the  warmest  heart,  the  profoundest  intellect,  the 
loftiest  aspiration.  Their  error,  if  error  they  have, 
is  in  misinterpreting  Christianity,  in  not  being  true 
to  the  law  they  acknowledge,  in  not  laboring  with 
sufficient  faith  and  energy  to  realize  the  Ideal  of 
Christ.  They  are  hearers,  and  not  doers  of  the 
word.  They  are  as  the  man  who  seeth  his  face  in  a 
glass,  and  then  goeth  away  and  forgetteth  what 
manner  of  man  he  was.  Let  them  really  bring  out 
the  Christian  Ideal,  and  labor  with  energy  and  zeal 
to  form  Christ,  the  hope  of  glory,  in  the  individual 
and  in  the  race,  and  they  will  be  true  and  efficient 
reformers.     Their  works  will  live  after  them. 

*^Nor,  again,  let  it  be  supposed  that  they  who 
cling  to  the  authority  of  revelation,  are  necessarily 
inimical  to  the  rights  of  the  mind,  or  to  progress  in 
the  knowledge  of  truth.  The  Christian  Ideal,  so  far 
as  realized,  needs  no  foreign  authority.  The  human 
mind  if  oqual  to  it.  But  what  is  the  authority  for 
that  Ideal  so  far  as  it  is  as  yet  unrealized  t  The  in- 
dividual reason  f  Alas !  we  have  seen  enough  of 
mere  individual  reason.  It  is  impotent  when  it  has 
not  for  its  guide  and  support  the  reason  of  God,  speak- 
ing not  only  to  the  heart,  but  through  revelations 
and  the  traditions  of  the  race.  The  great  doctrine 
we  are  laboring  to  establish,  the  reforms  we  would 
effect,  we  confess  our  inability  to  demonstrate  by 
mere  individual  reason.     We  ask  for  them,  both  on 


228 


THK   CONVERT. 


i 


our  own  account  and  on  account  of  others,  a  lilglier 
authority  than  mere  individual  reason.  That  reason 
may  be  sufficient  for  here  and  there  one )  but  how 
can  it  suffice  for  the  ignorant,  the  bigoted,  the 
superstitious,  the  incredulous,  the  wicked, — the  men 
in  whom  conscience  slumbers,  love  sleeps,  and  only 
the  world  with  its  impurities  is  awake  ?  Alas !  man's 
word  is  impotent  to  arouse  them,  man's  authority  too 
weak  to  command  even  their  attention.  They  may 
speculate  with  us,  or  debate  with  us,  but  not  act  with 
us,  not  live  wdth  us  for  God  or  for  man.  You  must 
go  to  them  with  a  higher  authority  than  your  own, 
speak  to  them  in  a  Name  above  all  names,  and  which 
they  dare  not  resist,  or  your  preaching  and  efforts 
will  be  fruitless.  Deprive  the  preacher  of  the 
authority  of  God,  let  him  go  forth  in  his  own  name, 
not  as  the  messenger  of  God,  and  men  will  laugh  at 
his  truths,  and  mock  at  his  most  earnest  expostula- 
tions. No.  They  are  sorry  reformers  who  would 
reduce  God  to  nature,  and  the  authority  of  his  word 
to  that  of  the  individual  reason,  varying  with  every 
individual,  and  with  every  age." 

I  was  far  enough  from  being  free  from  grievous 
errors,  and  as  yet  had  not  once  thought  of  seeking  the 
old  Church ;  but  it  is  clear  that  I  had  made  some 
progress,  and  had  embraced,  without  ceasing  to  ex- 
ercise my  reason  freely,  or  failing  in  my  pledge  to 
myself,  of  being  faithful  to  my  own  rational  nature, 
the  great  principles  and  facts  which  placed  me  on 
the  route  to  the  Catholic  Church.  I  found  I  could 
reasonably  accept  the  ideas  of  Providence,  special  as 


PKOVIDEXTIAL   MEN. 


229 


well  as  general;  supernatural  inspiration,  supernatural 
revelation,  and  Christianity  as  an  authoritative  re- 
ligion, and  must  do  so,  or  be  false  alike  to  history  and 
my  hopes  of  progress.  I  felt,  as  I  had  felt  from  my 
boyhood,  that  I  had  need  of  an  authoritative  religion; 
and  that  a  religion  which  docs  not  and  cannot  speak 
^with  Divine  authority,  is  simply  no  religion  at  ail. 
I  did  not,  indeed,  conclude,  from  the  possibility  of 
the  Providential  men  I  asserted,  that  they  have 
actually  been  raised  up  and  sent ;  I  did  not,  from  the 
fact  that  God  can  give  us  the  needed  supernatural 
aid  through  them,  without  violence  to  nature  and 
reason,  and  in  accordance  with  the  great  law  of  all 
life,  conclude  that  therefore  he  actually  does  so  give 
it.  I  never  yet  was  so  poor  a  logician^  as  to  do  that* 
I  was  always  ready  and  anxious  to  believe,  providing 
I  could  see  my  way  clear  to  do  so  without  violence 
to  reason,  or  the  abnegation  of  my  own  manhood.  I 
never  wanted  reasons  for  believing :  what  I  wanted 
was,  to  have  the  real  or  imaginary  obstacles  to  be- 
lieving removed.  More  than  this,  1  never  needed, 
never  sought;  and,  therefore,  precisely  as  were 
removed  my  reasons  against  belie v'noj,  I  believed. 

Most  people,  born  and  reared  in  Christian  coun- 
tries, who  rejoct  Christianity,  are  very  much  in  the 
coiidiiioii  I  was.  Tliey  reject  Christianity,  not  be- 
cause they  sec  no  good  reasons  for  believing,  but 
bt'oniise  they  see,  or  think  they  see,  many  and  stronger 
n'Hsons  against  believing.  They  refuse  to  believe, 
because  they  do  not  understand  how  supernatural 
assistance  can  be  rendered  without  violence  to  nature; 


a 


i 
•li' . 
11 


■!l: 


m 


230 


THE   COXVEUT. 


or  an  authoritative  revelation,  or  a  revelation  that  is 
to  be  regarded  as  authority  for  reason,  can  be 
accepted  and  submitted  to  without  an  abandonment 
of  reason.  Such  had  been  the  case  with  me,  and, 
consequently,  as  this  obstacle  to  believing  was 
removed,  I  believed  without  seeking  any  further 
reason  for  believing. 

This  was  not  wholly  irrational  or  un philosophical. 
To  believe  is  normal,  to  disbelieve  is  abnormal. 
When  the  mind  is  in  its  normal  state,  nothing  more 
is  ever  needed  for  belief  than  the  removal  of  the 
obstacles  interposed  to  believing ;  for,  if  we  consider 
it,  the  mind  was  created  for  truth.  Truth  is  its 
object,  and  it  seeks  and  accepts  it  instinctively,  as 
the  new-born  child  seeks  the  mother's  breast,  from 
which  it  draws  its  nourishment.  Place  the  mind 
and  truth  face  to  face,  with  nothing  interposed  be- 
tween them,  and  the  truth  evidences  itself  to  the 
mind,  and  the  mind  accepts  it,  without  seeking  or 
needing  any  further  reason.  The  assent  termed 
knowledge  follows  immediately  from  the  joint  forces 
of  the  intelligible  object  and  the  intelligent  subject. 
So  in  belief.  Practicallv,  it  is  never  a  reason  foi 
believing,  but  the  removal  of  reasons  against  believ- 
ing, that  is  demanded.  Hence,  we  always  believe 
what  a  man  tells  us,  when  we  have  no  reason  for  not 
believing  him :  and  the  business  of  life  could  not  go 
on  were  it  otherwise.  For  belief,  reason  never 
requires  anything  but  the  mutual  presence,  with 
nothing  interposed  between  the  in,  of  the  credible 
object  and  the  credltive  subject. 


PROVIDENTIAL   MEN. 


231 


I  held  then,  as  I  Lold  noiV;  that  the  office  of  proof, 
or  everi  demonstration,  is  negative  rather  than  affirm-, 
ative.     Neither  ever  goes  farther  than  to  remove  the 
prohibentiay  or  obstacles  to  assent.     Demonstration, 
the  most  rigid  and  the  most  conclusive,  only  shows 
the  object  without  envelope  or  disguise,  and  motives 
assent  only  by  removing  every  reason  for  not  assent- 
ing.    The   assent   itself  is  always   immediate   and 
intuitive.     Truth    needs    no    voucher,    and,  when 
immediately  presented   to   the   mind,  evidences  or 
affirms  itself.     The  will  may  be  perverse,  and  with- 
draw the  intellect  from  tho  contemplation  of  truth ; 
prejudice  or  passion  may  darken  the  understanding, 
so  that  it  does  not  for  the  moment  see  or  recognize 
the  object ;  but,  whenever  the  truth  is  immediately 
present,  and  reason  looks  it  full  in  the  face,  it  knows 
that   it   is  truth  without  further  evidence,  without 
anything  extrinsic  to  prove  that  it  is  truth.     To  deny 
this  would  be  to  deny  to  the  soul  the  faculty  of  intel- 
ligence, the  faculty  of  knowing  at  all.     To  know  a 
thing  is  to  know  that  it  is  true,  for  nothing  but  truth 
is  or  can  be  an  object  of  knowledge.     To  say  that 
you  know  a  thing,  and  yet  do  not  know  whether  it 
be  true  or  not,  is  only  saying  that  you  do  not  know 
the  thing  at  all.     No  man  does  or  can  know  false- 
hood, for  falsehood  is  nothing,  is  a  nullity,  a  mere 
negation,  and  therefore  no  intelligible  object.     False- 
hood is  intelligible  only  in  the  truth  it  denies,  and  is 
known  only  in  knowing  that  truth.     In  so  far  as  any 
proposition    is   false,  it  is  unintelligible,  and  never 
known.     In  all  errors  we  know  only  the  element  of 


232 


THE   CONVERT. 


|i  i 


II 


11!     ' 


truth  which  they  contain ;  and  the  part  of  error  is 
,  simply  the  part  of  our  ignorance,  the  part  in  which 
nothing  is  known.  To  know  something,  and  to  know 
it  to  be  true,  is  one  and  the  same  thing ;  and  this  is 
i  what  is  meant  when  we  say  truth  is  the  object  of  tlie 
intellect.  Hence,  no  logical  process  is  ever  needed 
to  prove  to  the  mind  that  the  object  it  immediately 
apprehends  is  truth,  or  is  true.  That  it  is  true  or 
truth  is  included  in  the  fact  that  the  mind  appre- 
hends it  as  its  object,  or  knows  it.  To  suppose  the 
contrary,  to  suppose  that  a  logical  process  is 
needed  to  demonstrate  that  the  object  in  immediate 
relation  to  the  mind  is  true,  would  be  absurd ;  for  it 
would  demand  an  infinite  series  of  logical  processes 
to  every  single  act  of  knowledge  or  mental  assent. 
There  is  no  reasoning  except  from  premises  or  prin- 
ciples, and  no  valid  reasoning  from  either  false  or 
unknown  principles.  How  are  these  premises  or 
principles  to  be  obtained  ?  Not  by  reasoning,  not 
by  a  logical  process,  for,  without  them,  no  reasoning, 
no  logical  process  is  possible,  and  no  such  thing  as 
proof  or  demonstration  conceivable.  They  must, 
then,  precede  reasoning,  be  intuitive,  that  is,  evident 
of  themselves.  Then,  nothing  is  necessary,  in  the 
last  analysis,  to  knowledge  but  the  immediate  pres- 
ence to  each  other  of  the  intelligible  object  and  the 
intelligent  subject.  So  is  it  in  the  case  of  knowledge 
or  science  in  the  natural  order,  where  the  object  is 
immediately  intelligible  to  reason. 

The  principle  must  hold  true,  as  far  as  applicable, 
in  the  supernatural  order,  and  in  regard  to  faith  as 


nil 


PROVIDEXriAL   Mi:x. 


233 


la 


well  as  in  regard  to  science.  Faith  or  belief  is 
assent  to  propositions  not  immediately  known,  on  the 
authority  affirming  them ;  that  is,  it  is  assent  on 
testimony.  The  understanding  does  not  assent  to 
them  because  it  sees  immediately  their  truth,  as  in 
case  of  science  or  knowledge,  but  because  it  sees  tiie 
sufficiency  of  the  authority  or  testimony  affirming 
them.  The  immediate  object  of  belief  is  the  veracity 
of  the  witness,  or  the  fact  that  the  authority  in  the 
case  can  neither  deceive  nor  be  deceived  ;  and  hero 
the  assent  is  immediate  as  soon  as  the  obstacles  are 
removed,  because  to  believe  is  normal.  If  the  super- 
natural and  the  natural  correspond  one  to  the  other, 
as  it  is  here  assumed  that  they  do,  the  same  holds 
true  of  belief  in  the  supernatural  order.  We  cannot 
believe  the  supernatural  things  revealed  without 
what  are  called  motives  of  credibility  ;  but  these 
motives  do  not,  so  to  speak,  motive  the  assent  of  the 
mind  to  the  veracity  or  sufficiency  of  the  authority 
affirming  them.  They  only  show  that  the  authority 
is  credible )  that  is,  remove  all  the  reason  we  may 
have,  or  imagine  we  have,  for  regarding  it  as  incred- 
ible or  untrustworthy.  The  assent  to  its  veracity 
or  sufficiency  when  these  reasons  are  removed,  is 
immediate,  by  the  joint  forces  of  the  credible  object 
and  creditive  subject  as  in  the  natural  order.  My 
conduct,  then,  in  believing  in  the  supernatural  order 
the  moment  my  reasons  against  believing  in  it 
were  removed,  and  I  saw  its  accordance  with  nature 
and  reason,  was  not  rash  or  precipitate,  but  truly 
reasonable  and  philosophical,  in  accordance  with  the 


234 


THE  CONVERT. 


principle  of  all  belief,  and,  indeed,  of  all  science. 
I  asked,  and  I  needed,  nothing  more. 

My  doing  so  was  justified,  also,  by  the  view 
which  I  then  took,  and  still  take,  of  the  inspiration 
of  the  human  race.  I  held  that  the  race  lives 
by  immediate  communion  with  God,  therefore  in- 
spired by  him,  and  hence  in  its  normal  state  aspires 
to  iiim.  Man  lives  by  immediate  communion  with 
God  as  ^  is  object,  and  theref  re  the  objective  ele- 
ment of  his  life  is  divine,  and  through  this  objective 
element  his  life  is  the  life  of  God.  *  Man  thus  in  his 
natural  life  even  partakes  of  God,  and  this  partak- 
ing of  God  I  called  inspiration.  I  did  not  mean 
by  this  that  the  race  is  supernaturally  inspired; 
I  only  meant  what  the  Scriptures  say,  that  '^  there  is 
a  spirit  in  men,  and  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty 
giveth  understanding ) ''  or,  in  other  words,  that  man 
is  intelligent,  is  a  rational  existence,  only  by  virtue 
of  the  immediate  presence  of  God,  simultaneously 
the  creator,  the  object,  and  the  light  of  his  reason. 
This  is  the  doctrine  I  now  hold,  and  which  I  am 
supposed  to  have  borrowed  from  Gioberti,  but  which 
I  held  before  Gioberti  had  published  it,  and  long 
before  I  had  seen  his  writings  or  heard  his  name. 
Cousin  and  Leroux  had  held  something  like  it,  but 
made  it,  in  their  explanation  of  it,  a  pantheistic 
doctrine.  They  did  not  distinguish  with  sufficient 
care  between  the  human  reason  and  the  reason  of 
God ;  and  while  they  made  the  immediate  presence 
of  God  in  the  soul  the  condition  of  our  intelligence, 
they  did  not  regard  that  presence  as  creating  our 


PROVIDENTIAL  MEN. 


2'.} 


i) 


^eaaorif  or  faculty  of  intelligence,  and  becoming 
immediately,  in  the  act  of  creating  it,  its  object  and 
its  light ;  but  left  it  to  be  inferred  that  it  is  God  him- 
self who  knows  and  loves  in  us :  which  is  virtually 
pantheism.  I  distinguished  where  they  did  not, 
and  held  that  it  is  not  God  who  knows  and  loves  in 
us,  but  God  in  us  who  creates  in  us  our  power  to 
know  and  to  love.  The  Divine  reason  is  not  our 
reason,  but,  so  to  speak,  the  reason  of  our  reason. 
It  creates  our  reason,  and  is  its  immediate  light  and 
object.  This  doctrine  is  well  known  to  the  theo- 
logians under  the  names  of  the  presence  of  God  in 
all  his  works,  and  the  Divine  concurrence  in  all  the 
acts  of  his  creatures.  All  theologians  teach  that  it 
is  in  God  we  live,  and  move,  and  are,  and  that  his 
reason  is  the  light  of  our  reason.  Hence  St.  John, 
speaking  of  the  Word  or  Logos,  one  with  God,  says, 
he  was  "the  true  light  which  enlighteneth  every 
man  coming  into  this  world.  " 

Saying  with  Eliu  in  the  book  of  Job,  "  There  is 
a  spirit  in  men,  and  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty 
giveth  understanding,"  "  Spiritus  in  hominihm  et  in- 
spiratio  Omnipotentis  dat  intelligentiam^^^  I  concluded 
the  human  race  is  inspired.  God  gives  understand- 
ing, not  only  in  the  sense  that  he  creates  the  faculty, 
but  also  in  the  sense  that  he  is  its  object.  In  being 
the  object  of  the  intellect,  he  is  also  that  of  the  will, 
and  affirms  himself  both  as  the  True  and  the  Good, 
as  alike  the  object  of  knowledge  and  of  love.  Hence 
it  is  we  understand  and  love,  know  and  aspire. 
This  affirming  himself  as  the  True  and  the  Good  in 


236 


THE  CONVERT. 


natural  roason  is  natural  inspiration,  and  the  cause 
of  the  universal  aspiration  of  the  race  to  God  as  the 
Infinitely  True  and  the  Supremely  Good.  In  this 
inspiration  and  this  aspiration  of  the  race,  I  detect 
the  dignity  and  authority  of  the  race.  In  it  I  find 
the  worth  and  legitimacy  of  reason,  and  vindicate 
my  right  to  take  the  reason  of  the  race  as  a  legiti- 
mate ground  of  belief.  The  reason  of  the  race  may 
be  safely  followed,  because  it  is  the  inspiration  of 
the  Almighty,  who  can  neither  deceive  nor  be  de- 
ceived. The  race  has  always  recognized,  in  some 
form,  supernatural  communion  vith  God,  and  held 
that  it  is  only  by  virtue  of  this  supernatural  com- 
munion, that  is,  a  communion  in  a  higher  sense  than 
that  by  which  we  are  rendered  capable  of  knowing 
and  loving  in  the  natural  order,  that  the  race  is 
elevated  and  set  forward  in  its  career  of  progress. 
Then,  to  believe  in  the  reality  of  this  communion,  in 
the  fact  of  this  supernatural  aid  or  assistance,  is  not 
an  irrational  belief,  or  a  belief  on  an  inadequate 
authority.  The  race  has  always  believed  that  men 
are  elevated  and  set  forward  by  supernatural  assist- 
ance, obtained  through  the  agency  of  specially 
inspired  individuals,  or  what  I  call  Providential  men. 
Wherever  you  find  man,  you  find  him  with  some  sort 
of  religion ;  and  all  religions,  the  lowest  and  most 
corrupt,  as  well  as  the  highest  and  purest,  recognize 
a  supernatural  element  in  human  life,  and  claim, 
each  for  itself,  the  assent  of  mankind,  on  the  ground  of 
being  the  channel  or  medium  through  which  it  is 
attained,  or  flows  into  the  natural,  and  supematu- 


PROVIDENTIAL  MEN. 


237 


ralizes  human  action.  This  is  the  essential,  the 
vital  principle  of  all  the  religions  which  are  or  ever 
have  been.  Take  this  away,  and  you  leave  nothing 
to  which  the  common-sense  of  mankind  does  or  can 
give  the  name  of  religion.  As  this  supernatural 
element  may  flow  in  without  violence  or  injury  to 
the  natural,  what  reason  have  you  to  assert  that  this 
common  belief  of  mankind  is  false  or  unreasonable  f 
For  you,  who  concede  an  authoritative  religion, 
propounded  and  interpreted  by  an  authoritative 
church,  what  higher  authority  is  or  can  there  be  for 
believing  anything,  than  the  reason  of  the  race  t  It 
is  your  highest  reason  after  the  immediate  and 
express  word  of  God ;  and  not  to  believe  it  without  a 
higher  reason  for  discrediting  it,  is  not  to  follow 
reason,  but  to  reject  reason. 

My  conduct,  then,  was  not  unreasonable,  but 
reasonable  ;  and  the  joy  I  felt  at  finding  myself 
believing  in  the  supernatural  providence  of  God, 
was  no  silly  joy,  but  such  as  I  might  well  indulge, 
for  it  proceeded  from  the  recognition  by  the  soul, 
thought  as  yet  but  partially  and  dimly,  of  the  object 
to  which  I  had  always  aspired.  I  had  made  the 
greatest  step  I  had  yet  made,  in  this  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  the  human  race  is  advanced  by  the  aid 
of  Providential  men.  In  it  I  seemed  to  assert  my 
own  freedom,  and,  what  is  more,  the  freedom  of 
God.  No  matter  how  I  had  reasoned  or  talked,  I 
had  regarded  God  as  a  Fatiinij  or  an  Invincible 
Necessity,  creating  from  the  necessity  of  his  own 
being,  and  hedged  in  and  bound  by  the  invariable 


288 


Tm;  CONVERT. 


and  iniexible  laws  of  nature.  This  is  more  gener- 
ally the  case  with  our  modem  philosophers,  and 
so-called  free  thinkers,  than  is  commonly  supposed. 
The  real  obstacle  in  many  minds  to  the  acceptance 
of  Christian  faith,  is  the  want  of  belief  in  the  freedom 
of  God.  Read  the  works  of  all  your  non- Catholic 
philosophers,  and  you  will  find  that  they  nowhere 
admit  Providence,  or  the  free  intervention  of  Qod 
in  the  affairs  of  the  universe  he  has  himself  created. 
What  they  call  the  providential  is  always  the  fixed, 
the  invariable,  the  inexorable,  the  fatal.  They 
reject  miracles,  the  supernatural,  or  voluntary  inter- 
positions on  the  part  of  the  Creator,  because  they 
are  assumed  to  be  marks  of  change,  of  variability, 
and  forbidden  by  the  laws  of  nature.  I  had,  in 
asserting  Providential  men,  risen  above  this  difH- 
culty,  and  become  able  to  understand  that,  while 
God  binds  nature,  nature  cannot  bind  him;  that 
being  in  himself  sufficient  for  himself,  no  necessity 
compels  him  to  operate  externally,  or  to  create  a 
world ;  and  therefore  creation  itself  must  be,  on  his 
part,  a  fi'ee,  voluntary  act,  and  much  more  so  his 
intervent  on  in  the  government  of  what  he  has 
created.  This  threw  a  heavy  burden  from  my 
shoulders,  and  in  freeing  God  from  his  assumed 
bondage  to  nature,  unshackled  my  own  limbs,  and 
made  me  feel  that  in  God's  freedom  I  had  a  sure 
pledge  of  my  own.  God  could,  if  he  chose,  be 
gracious  to  me ;  he  could  hear  my  prayers,  respond 
to  my  entreaties,  interpose  to  protect  me,  to  assist 
me,  to  teach  me,  and  to  ble&s  me.     He  was  free  to 


PROVIDENTUL  MEN. 


239 


lovo  ine  as  his  child|  and  to  do  me  all  the  good  his 
infinite  love*  should  prompt.  I  was  no  longer 
chained,  like  Prometheus,  to  the  Caucasian  rock, 
with  my  vulture  passions  devouring  my  heart ;  I  was 
no  longer  fatherless,  an  orphan  left  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  inexorable  general  laws,  and  my  heart 
bounded  with  joy,  and  I  leaped  to  embrace  the  neck 
of  my  Father,  and  to  rest  my  head  on  his  bosom. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  ecstasy  of  that  moment, 
when  I  first  realized  to  myself  that  God  is  free. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


STRUGGLES  AFTER  LIGHT, 

I  HAD  now  settled  it  in  my  own  mind,  that  tlie 
progress  of  man  and  society  is  effected  only  by 
supernatural  assistance,  and  that  this  assistance  is 
rendered  by  Almighty  God,  in  perfect  accordance 
with  nature  and  reason,  through  Providential  men. 
M.  Cousin  had  emitted  the  theory,  that  the  great 
man  is  great  because  he,  better  than  any  of  his 
contemporaries,  collects  and  represents,  or  imperson- 
ates, the  ideas  and  sentiments  of  his  own  age ;  but 
I  adopted  the  opposite  doctrine,  that  the  truly  great 
man  is  great  because  he  makes  his  age,  determines 
the  ideas  and  sentiments  of  the  race,  and  by  his  own 
elevation  lifts  them  to  a  higher  plane.  Truly  great 
men  are  superior  to  their  age,  and  give  it  what  it 
has  not,  and  cannot  draw  from  its  own  funds. 

I  placed,  as  yet,  our  Lord  in  the  category  of  great 
men.  Providential  men,  along  with  Abraham,  Moses, 
Zoroaster,  Confucius,  Socrates,  Plato,  etc.,  but  I 
considered  him  greater  than  any  of  them,  and, 
indeed,  as  completing  the  line  of  Providential  men, 
and  supplying  all  that  was  wanting  in  those  who 
went  before  him.  I  ventured  even  to  call  him  God- 
man  in  a  special  sense,  and  thought,  for  a  moment, 


bTKUUUL£S    AriKU    LIGHT. 


241 


tliat,  by  ray  doctrine  of  Communion,  by  virtue  of 
wliich  the  object  becomes  identical  with  the  subject 
in  the  fact  of  life,  I  could  explain  the  chief  mystery 
of  the  Incarnation,  and,  indeed,  all  the  principal 
Christian  dogmas,  and  find  a  common  ground  on 
which  Trinitarians  and  Unitarians,  Orthodox  and 
Heterodox,  Conservatives  and  Reformers,  the  believ- 
ers in  revelation  and  the  advocates  of  natural  reason, 
could  all  meet  in  peace  and  love,  and  unite  as  One  man 
to  effect  the  amelioration  and  progress  of  society.  It 
was  a  brave  dream,  but  only  a  dream,  from  which  I 
soon  awoke. 

I  made  at  the  time  a  distinction  between  being  and 
life,  and  held,  after  Leroux,  that  being  actualizes 
itself  in  life  or  living.  I  fell  here  into  the  fun- 
damental error  of  all,  or  nearly  all,  modern,  and  no 
little  of  ancient,  philosophy.  The  starting-point  of 
Leroux's  doctrine,  and  which  I  accepted  from  him, 
ihat  thought  is  a  phenomenon  that  includes  simul- 
taneously subject,  object,  and  their  relation,  consist- 
ently carried  out,  implies  realism  as  opposed  to 
idealism.  It  implies  that  we  know  the  object,  be- 
cause we  think  it,  and  we  think  it  simply  because  it 
is,  and  is  immediately  present  to  our  intellect.  I  saw 
and  understood  this  well  enough ;  but,  in  applying  it 
to  being,  to  ontology,  I  forgot  it,  as  Leroux  himself 
did.  The  primitive  objective  element  of  thought  is 
indeed  being,  I  said,  real  being  too,  but  not  actual 
being.  Real  being  and  actual  being  identified  give  us 
then :  1,  Pure  being,  das  reine  Scyn  of  Hegel,  which 
is  simply  possible  being ;  2,  Idea,  or  possible  being^ 

11 


242 


THE   CONVEIIT. 


advanced  to  the  state  of  type,  or  mental  conception ; 
and  3)  Life,  dcts  Wcsen,  or  being  actualized,  being 
advanced  from  the  state  of  possibility  to  living  being, 
or  complete  actuality.  These  three  moments,  states, 
or  terms,  I  had  the  simplicity  to  regard  as  the  real 
significance  of  the  Christian  Trinity.  Truth  is 
always  simpler  than  error,  and  requires  far  less 
effort  to  explain  or  understand  it.  This  possible, 
or,  as  Leroux  jaid,  virtual  being,  which  precedes 
both  Idea  and  Life,  Leroux  identified  with  the  Void 
of  the  Buddhists,  and  represented  as  standing  op- 
posed to  the  Plenum  or  Pleroma  of  the  Gnostics.  It 
was,  then,  in  reality  only  possible,  n;>t  actual ;  but  it 
appears  not  to  have  occurred  to  him  any  more  than 
it  did  to  me,  that  tlie  possible  without  the  actual  is 
a  mere  abstraction,  and,  like  all  abstractions,  a 
nullity.  Suppose  all  actual  being  wanting,  and  you 
can  conceive  of  nothing  as  possible.  Suppose  no 
living,  actual  God,  and  the  possibility  of  God  ceases 
to  be  supposable.  Hence,  Aristotle  and  all  theo- 
logians call  God  actus  purissimus,  most  pure  act, 
and  deny  that  in  himj  in  reference  to  his  being  or 
perfections,  there  is  any  possibiUtify  or  anything  in 
potentiaj  not  yet  actual,  but  susceptible  of  becoming 
actual.  He  is  eternal,  atid  eternally  most  fuU  and 
perfect  being.     He  is  so,  or  he  is  not  at  all. 

The  possible  may  be  considered  either  in  relation 
to  God,  or  in  relation  to  the  creature.  In  I'elation  to 
God,  it  is  simply  his  power  to  create  creatures  not 
actually  created ;  and  in  relation  to  creature,  it  is 
the  creature's  power  as  second  cause  to  do  what  it 


STRUGGLES   AriER    LIGHT. 


243 


act, 


in 


has  not  yet  done.  Creatures  which  God  may  create, 
but  does  not;  may  be  said  to  exist  virtually  in 
him,  as  ideas  in  his  own  mind,  but,  as  so  existing, 
they  are  not  distinguishable  from  his  Divine  being, 
or  essence  itself.  So  the  things  we  may  do,  but 
have  not  yet  done,  are  the  virtuality  of  our  nature, 
and  indistinguishable  from  it.  Abstracted  from 
God,  the  creatures  he  may  create  or  the  ideas  he  may 
clothe  with  existence,  are  simple  nullities,  and  in- 
conceivable 'j  and  so,  when  abstracted  from  our 
power,  are  the  things  we  may  as  second  causes 
do,  but  as  yet  have  not  done.  It  is  the  actuality 
of  God  that  renders  creation  possible,  and  it  is 
only  in  the  intuition  of  that  actuality,  that  pos- 
sible creatures  or  perfections  are  conceivable. 
It  is  also  in  the  fact  of  our  actuality  that  we  are, 
or  can  be  conceived,  capable  of  acting,  doing,  or 
producing. 

As  plain  and  as  conclusive  as  all  this  is,  very  few 
philosophers  ever  apprehend  it ;  or,  if  they  appre- 
hend it,  they  apprehend  it  only  as  a  barren  fact,  and 
see  no  use  to  be  made  of  it.  The  great  Leibnitz, 
in  commenting  on  St.  Anselm^s  ai^ument  for  the 
existence  of  God  from  the  idea  present  to  our  minds 
of  the  most  perfect  being,  says,  it  would  be  conclu- 
sive if  it  were  previously  established  that  the  rea' 
existence  of  most  perfect  being,  or  God,  is  possible  f 
Storchenau,  a  disciple  of  Wolf,  as  Wolf  was  a  disci- 
ple of  Leibnitz,  and  whose  work  has  been,  and  I 
believe  still  is,  used  as  a  text-book  of  philosophy 
even  in  some  Catholic  Colleges,  seems  to  hold  that 


i 


1 . 

'   II! 

■  'if 


"■.: 


I 


2U 


THE   CONVERT. 


possible  being  is  anterior  to  real  beings  and  to  precede 
the  actual,  living  God,  by  a  superior  possible  God, 
just  as  if  the  actual,  living  God  is  not  the  reason, 
ground,  and  condition  of  all  possibility.  If  God 
were  not,  nothing  would  be  possible,  not  even  his 
own  existence.  There  is  nothing  real  or  possible 
anterior  to  God  or  independent  of  him.  It  is  he 
himself  in  the  infinite  fulness  of  his  own  being  that 
makes  creation  possible,  as  it  is  his  own  creative  act 
that  renders  it  actual;  and  that  abstract  being 
which  we  call  the  nature  of  things,  is  concrete  in 
him,  and  is  his  owi  eternal,  universal,  immutable, 
and  indestructible  essence. 

The  source  of  the  error  of  placing  the  possible 
before  the  actual,  and  presenting  it  as  infinite  virtu- 
ality  actualizing  itself  in  the  universe,  and  rising,  as 
Hegel,  and  after  him  Cousin,  says,  to  self-conscious- 
ness in  the  consciousness  of  mavi,  or  in  our  conscious- 
ness of  our  own  existence,  is  in  the  assumption  that 
it  is  the  subject,  not  the  object,  that  determines  the 
form  of  the  thought.  Cousin  and  Leroux  both  say, 
and  say  truly,  that  thought  is  a  phenomenon  embrac- 
ing simultaneously  and  indissolubly  three  elements : 
subject,  object,  and  their  relation.  They  say  truly, 
too,  that  the  relation  is  the  form  of  the  thought.  But 
they  both  maintain  that  the  subject  determines  the 
form,  and  thus  with  Kant  make  the  categories  forms 
of  the  human  understanding,  and  assume  that  we 
think  things  bo  and  so,  not  because  they  are  so,  but 
because  such  is  the  nature  or  character  of  our  intel- 
lect.    They  hold  object  is  actualized  in  our  thought, 


STRUGGLES  AFIER   LIGHT. 


245 


and  is  only  a  yirtuality  when  we  do  not  think  it.  As 
we  never  see  ourselves  in  ourselves,  and  recognize  our 
own  existence  only  as  mirrored  in  the  act  of  thinking^ 
we  exist  fci  ourselves  only  so  far  as  we  enter  into 
and  manifest  ourselves  in  the  act.  As,  prior  to  the 
act  of  thinking,  neither  subject  nor  object  actually 
exists  for  us,  either,  independent  of  our  thought,  is 
only  a  virtuality,  not  an  actuality.  Thought  there- 
fore is  their  actualization,  and  this  actualization  of 
subject  and  object  in  thought,  pen84ejifi  what  Leroux 
meant  by  life,  as  distinguished  from  being.  Now^  as 
the  form  of  this  life  is  determined  by  the  subject, 
we  are  forced,  in  applying  it  to  God,  to  deny  that  he 
is  actual  or  living  God  prior  to  his  being  thought, 
and  to  regard  him  as  actual  or  living  God  only  in  so 
far  as  concreted  in  our  life.  Hence  the  modern  Pan- 
theism, which  represents  God  as  realizing  or  actual- 
izing himself  in  idea,  idea  as  realizing  itself  in  the 
race,  the  race  as  realizing  itself  in  individuals,  and  in- 
dividuals as  realizing  themselves  in  the  act  of  think- 
ing, that  is,  feeling,  knowing,  and  loving :  a  superb 
system  of  transcendental  nullism.  The  mother  error 
is  in  supposing  that  the  subject  determines  the  form 
of  the  thought,  and  therefore  is  the  condition  of  the 
actualization  of  the  object,  as  well  as  of  itself.  This 
supposes  that  both  when  unthought  are  virtualitics 
not  actualities.  But  there  ie  no  thought  save  by 
the  concurrence  of  both  subject  and  object.  In 
the  generation  of  thought,  both  subject  and  object 
nmst  act.  What  is  not  actual  cannot  act,  and  there- 
fore  both   subject   and  object  must  be  actualities 


i 


111 


lMO 


THE   CONVKUT. 


prior  to  thouglit,  and,  therefore,  when  unthought. 
The  subject  in  thought  is  not  alone  active,  or  active 
at  ail  save  in  concurrence  with  the  activity  of  the  ob- 
ject. The  object  depends  on  the  subject  to  be 
thought  if  you  will,  but  not  to  be,  or  to  be  actual, 
for  it  can  be  thought  only  on  condition  that  it  exists 
prior  to  the  thought,  and  its  action  precedes  the 
action  of  the  subject. 

The  common  error  of  philosophers  is  in  supposing 
that  it  is  the  subject  that  affirms  the  object,  while  it 
is  the  object  that  affirms  or  evidences  itself  to  the 
subject.  This  is  the  condemnation  of  our  psycholo- 
gists, or  those  who  seek  the  principle  of  philosophy, 
or  primum phi/osophicumj  in  the  fact  of  consciousness, 
or  an  affection  of  the  soul,  or  subject ;  and  the  reason 
why  all  sound  philosophy  is  and  must  be  ontological, 
taking  its  principle  in  the  fact  that  the  object  is,  and 
affirms  itself  in  the  fact  of  consciousness  along  with 
the  subject,  and  as  the  condition  of  its  activity.  In 
all  human  life,  the  action  of  the  object  precedss  and 
renders  possible  the  action  of  the  subject.  A  thing 
does  not  exist  because  we  think  it,  but  we  think  it 
because  it  is  intelligibly — actively — present  to  our 
intelligence,  or  intellectual  faculty.  It  is,  then,  not 
the  intelligence  that  determines  the  intelligibility  of 
the  object,  but  the  intelligibility  of  the  object  that 
determines  the  intelligence )  and  therefore  the  object, 
not  the  subject,  that  determines  the  form  of  the 
thought.  Things  evidence  themselves  to  us,  and  we 
see  them  because  they  are,  and  as  they  are  a  parte 
rei ;  for,  if  it  were  not  so,  we  could  see  what  is  not,  or 


STUL'GOLKS   AKIKK    LIGHT. 


247 


what  does  not  exiat,  which  would  be  absurd.  What 
is  not;  or  exists  not,  is  not  intelligible. 

All  this  was  implied  in  the  doctrine  that  thought 
is  invariably  and  indissolubly  a  synthesis  of  object, 
subject,  and  their  relation,  though  I  did  not  at  the 
time  clearly  perceive  it.  Had  I  done  so,  I  should 
have  perceived  that  the  distinction  made  between 
being  and  life,  and  the  doctrine  that  both  subject 
and  object  are  actualized  in  thought,  are  inadmis- 
sible. The  object  flows  in  its  action  into  the  life  of 
the  subject,  but  not  the  subject  into  the  object.  Both 
are  actual  prior  to  the  generation  of  the  thought. 
But,  overlooking  this  fact,  I  proceeded  on  the  erro- 
neous assumption,  that  being,  whether  of  the  object 
or  the  subject,  when  unthought,  is  latent,  virtual,  not 
actual,  and  is  actualized  in  thought,  and  therefore 
that,  in  the  thought,  both  subject  and  object  are  iden- 
tical. This  actualization  of  subject  and  object  in  the 
act  of  thinking,  is  what  I  called  life  as  distinguished 
from  being.  This  life  I  called  the  life  of  the  subject, 
because  its  form  is  determined  by  the  subject,  and 
hence  I  maintained  that  both  subject  and  object  live 
and  are  one  in  our  life. 

Applying  this  doctrine  to  our  Lord,  and  seeking 
to  explain  by  it  the  mystery  of  the  Incarnation,  or  to 
get  at  the  fact  covered  or  intended  by  that  mystery, 
I  took  the  Incarnation  as  a  fact  of  life,  not  of  nature. 
The  Christian  world  calls  our  Lord  God-man.  This 
is  true,  if  you  speak  of  him  in  his  actuality,  in  his 
life,  not  in  his  nature.  Suppose  the  man  Christ 
Jesus, — for    man    he    was    according    to    the    most 


248 


TUB    CONVKUT. 


|l  w      "> 


;i 


orthodox  teaching, — was  taken  up,  miraculously,  if 
you  will,  into  a  supernatural  communion  with  God,  so 
that  God,  as  in  the  case  of  every  Providential  man, 
became  his  object  in  a  supernatural  sense ;  then, 
since  life  partakes  alike  of  subject  and  object,  and  is 
the  union  or  identification  of  the  two,  his  life  must 
be  strictly  a  Divine-human  life,  and  he  in  the  life  he 
lives  truly  God-man,  as  the  Christian  world  has 
alwavs  believed.  Is  not  here  the  Incarnation,  the 
actualization  of  the  Divine  in  the  human  f  And  as 
it  is  evidently  a  miraculous  communion  of  the  human 
with  the  Divine,  is  not  this  the  Miraculous  Concep- 
tion and  Birth  of  our  Lord  f 

But  you  have  only  the  Divine-human  life,  not  the 
hypostatic  union  of  the  two  natures  in  one  person. . 
Yet  I  have  two  natures  united,  identified  in  one  life  ; 
and  as  these  natures  live  only  by  virtue  of  their  in- 
tercommunion, I  have  the  union  of  both  the  living 
God  and  living  man  in  one  life.  It  is  the  life  that 
redeems  and  saves.  Whatever  emphasis  may  be 
laid  on  the  death  of  Christ,  it  is  evident  from  the 
Scriptures  that  his  death  is  referred  to  only  as  the 
completion  and  crown  of  his  life.  He  came  into  the 
world  that  we  might  have  life,  to  beget  in  us  life,  a 
new,  a  higher,  a  diviner  life.  That  he  redeems  the 
world  by  infusing  life  into  our  life  through  commun- 
ion with  himself,  is  the  belief  of  Christendom.  As 
the  Father  hath  life  in  himself,  and  as  the  Son  lives 
by  the  Father,  so  his  disciples  live  by  him.  It  is  the 
life  that  saves ;  and  what  else  is  the  real  significance 
of  salvation    through  an  Incarnate  Saviour,  or  the 


STRUGGLES   AFIEU   LKilll. 


240 


union  in  our  Lord  of  this  twofold  redeeming  and 
saving  life  f 

As  the  Father  hath  life  in  himself^  so  hath  he 
given  to  the  Son  to  have  life  in  himself.  The  Son, 
by  his  supernatural  or  miraculous  communion  with 
the  Father,  lives  a  Divine-human  life ;  so  the  Apos- 
tles and  Disciples,  by  communion  with  the  Son,  lived 
the  same  life,  and  through  hirj  became  one  in  life 
with  the  Father  and  with  one  another,  and  were  ele- 
vated above  their  natural  life,  and  set  forward  in  the 
career  of  progress.  Here,  I  said,  is  the  Christian 
doctrine  of  Holy  Communion,  or  Eucharistia.  The 
whole  mystery  of  the  Christian  religion  has  been  sup- 
posed to  turn  around  the  mystery  of  Holy  Com- 
munion 'j  and  in  this  communion  the  Scriptures  teach, 
and  the  Clmrch  has  always  held,  that  the  communi- 
cant really  receives  the  flesh  and  blood  of  our  Lord. 
**  Except  ye  eoX  my  flesh,  and  drink  my  blood,  ye 
have  no  life  in  you."  The  flesh  profiteth  nothing, 
and  the  Church  never  teaches  that  we  must  eat  the 
flesh  or  drink  the  blood  of  Christ  in  a  gross,  carnal 
sense,  as  we  eat  meat  bought  in  the  shambles. 
What  is  meant  is,  that  we  really  receive,  and  have 
incorporated  into  our  life,  the  Divine-human  life  of 
our  Lord.  This  is  done  by  communion  with  him^ 
and  through  him  with  God  the  Father.  Thus  he 
becomes  to  us,  through  communion,  the  mediator  or 
medium  between  God  and  men,  as  St.  Paul  calls  him. 
Thus,  from  the  central  point  of  communion  I  can 
explain  the  Incarnation,  the  Mediatorial  life  of  Christ, 
and  the  principal  Christian  dogmas,  as  I  attempted 


250 


THE  CONVERT. 


I      ii 


to  show  in  a  Letter  on.  the  Mediatorial  Life  of  Christy 
addressed  to  Dr.  Channing,  which  I  wrote  and  pub- 
lished in  the  summer  of  1843. 

But  we  who  live  at  this  day  do  not  communicate 
directly  with  Christ  our  Lord.  We  do  it,  and  can 
do  it)  only  through  the  medium  of  others.  The 
Apostles  and  Disciples  lived  in  personal  intercourse 
with  him,  and  therefore  communed  with  him  directly 
and  immediately  as  their  object.  By  this  direct  and 
immediate  communion,  his  Divine-human  life  be- 
came infused  into  their  life.  Others,  by  communion 
with  them,  partake  of  the  same  life.  The  succeeding 
generation  participates  in  it  by  communing  with  its 
predecessor.  Thus  by  communion  the  life  may  be 
infused  through  all  men  living  contemporaneously, 
and  transmitted  to  the  latest  posterity.  The  Apos- 
tles become  thus  the  medium  of  its  reception,  diffu- 
sion, and  transmission.  Here  is  the  meaning  of 
Apostolic  Succession. 

This  Divine* human  life  is  one  and  identical  in  all 
who  receive  it,  for  it  is  a  real  life,  really  lived,  not 
merely  desired  by  the  heart,  or  assented  to  as  a  doc- 
trine by  the  reason.  It  enters  really  into  the  life  of 
individuals  as  the  life  of  their  life.  All  life  is  or- 
ganic ;  and,  consequently,  all  who  live  this  life  are 
moulded  or  formed  into  one  body,  living  one  and  the 
same  life,  the  life  of  Christ,  and  therefore  rightly 
termed  his  body,  the  Church,  as  the  Scriptures 
expressly  teach.  Hence  I  have  the  Church,  not  as 
an  association,  an  organization,  or  mere  aggregation 
of  individuals,  but  as  an  organism,  one  ajid  Cath- 


8TKUGOLE8   AVTEli   LIU  HI. 


251 


olic, — one  because  its  life  is  one,  and  Catholic 
because  it  includes  all  who  live  the  life,  of  whatever 
age  or  nation,  and  because  all  men  in  every  age  and 
nation  may  by  communion  live  it.  The  life  of 
Christ  is  not  only  life,  but  the  principle  of  life,  and 
operating  in  the  body,  assimilates  individuals,  as  tlio 
human  body  assimilates  the  particles  of  the  food 
eaten.  It  is  then  no  sham,  no  illusion,  but  the  real 
body  of  Christ,  a  real  living  organism,  and  in  some 
sense  a  continuation  of  the  Incarnation. 

But  as  the  Church  includes  all  who  are  assimilated 
by  its  central  life,  and  as  it  is  only  the  real  recep- 
tion of  that  life  that  elevates  and  advances  one,  it  is 
clear  that  out  of  the  Church  no  one  can  be  saved. 
There  is  no  other  name  given  under  heaven  [the 
name  of  Jesus]  among  men  whereby  we  can  be  saved  ; 
and  as  he  saves  us  only  by  communicating  his  Divine- 
human  life,  according  to  the  universal  law  of  life,  the 
doctrine  of  exclusive  salvation  is  and  must  be 
strictly  true. 

But,  as  the  life  of  the  Church  is  a  higher  than 
natural  life,  higher  than  the  life  of  the  race,  since  it 
is  a  Divine-human  life  in  a  supernatural  sense,  it  is 
and  must  be  authoritative,  not  only  for  my  individual 
reason,  but  also  for  the  human  race  itself.  It  is  the 
highest  manifestation  of  both  the  Divine  and  the 
human,  and  therefore  is,  in  both  Divine  and  hum.an 
things,  the  highest  authority  under  God,  nay,  is  the 
authority  of  God  himself.  Hence  the  AUTHORITY  of 
the  Church,  and  the  reasonableness  and  obligation 
of  individuals  and  of  all  men  to  submit  to  her — to 


252 


THE  COlfVEKT. 


ii'l 

nil 


believe  what  she  teachesi  and  to  do  what  she  com- 
mands. I  found  here  the  authority  I  hud  be«n  so 
long  seeking  for ;  a  real,  legitimate,  not  a  sham  or  a 
usurped  authority,  to  which  reason  could  submit 
without  abnegating  itself,  or  ceasing  to  be  reason. 

Moreover,  the  Divine-human  life  which  creates 
or  constitutes  the  Church,  and  is  its  authority,  the 
authority  of  the  indwelling  Holy  Ghost, — for  I 
identified  the  interior  life  of  the  Church  with  the 
Paraclete, — is  transmitted  in  the  Church  from  the 
Apostles,  and  has  been  operative  at  every  moment 
of  time  from  the  Incarnation  to  the  present.  The 
life  of  the  Church  now  is  identically  the  life  of  the 
Church  in  the  first  age,  by  virtue  of  an  uninterrupted 
communion  with  the  Apostles.  Each  successive  gen- 
eration communes  with  its  predecessor,  and  derives 
its  life  from  it.  This  is  the  principle  of  the  tradition, 
or  transmission  of  life,  called  under  one  aspect  the 
Apostolic  Succession,  and  under  another.  Apostolic 
Tradition.  As  Apostolic  or  Ecclesiastical  tradition 
is  the  tradition  of  the  Divine-human  life,  it  is 
always  authoritative  with  all  the  authority  of  that 
life  itself.  Hence  the  authority  of  Tradition,  as 
opposed  to  the  Protestant  principle  of  private  judg- 
ment. The  error  of  Protestantism  was,  in  that  it 
broke  with  Tradition,  broke  with  the  past,  and  cut 
itself  off  from  the  body  of  Christ,  and  therefore  from 
the  channel  through  which  the  Christian  life  is 
communicated.  Protestantism  was  a  schism,  a  sep- 
aration from  the  source  and  current  of  the  Divine- 
human  life  which  redeems  and  saves  the  world,  and 


RTUniGLKS   AKIEU    LKillT. 


25;) 


Protestants  arc  therefore  thrown  back  upon  nature, 
and  able  to  live  only  the  natural  life  of  the  race,^ — 
saving  the  portion  of  Christian  life  they  Brouj^ht 
away  with  them  at  the  time  of  the  separation,  and 
which,  as  not  renewed  from  its  source,  must  in  time 
be  exhausted. 

In  the  same  way  I  explained  all   the   Christian 
dogmas  I  was  acquainted  with,  and  found  that,  do 
what  I  would,  I  must  admit  that  the  great  currtMit 
of  Christian  life  had  flowed  and  still  flowed  down 
through  the  Catholic  Church.    It  is  evident  to  every 
Catholic  reader  that   this   theory,  elaborated   witli 
skill,  indeed,  and  not  without  some  speciousness,  isi 
far  enough  from  being  an  adequate  expression  of 
Catholicity.     But,  as  far  as  it  went,  it  was  not  false 
or  unworthy  of  consideration.  It  indeed  demonstrated 
or  proved  no  peculiar  or  distinctive  Catholic  doctrine, 
and  was  far  enough  from  being  a  complete  theory,  or 
adequate  to  its  own  demands ;  but  it   was,  in  the 
main,  true    philosophy,   and   enabled  me   to    grasp 
certain  laws  of  life  which  Christianity  accepts,  and  in 
accordance  with  which  it  acts.     It  removed,  and  re- 
moved philosophically,  all  ray  objections  to  the  more 
obscure  or  the  more  ofi*ensive  dogmas  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  and  showed  me  how  she  could  operate,  in 
accordance  with  nature,  the  elevation  of  nature,  and 
blend  the  Divine  redeeming  and  saving  life  in  with 
the  human,  and  make  them  in  the  Christian  one  life. 
It  did  not  give  me  the  Catholic  dogmas,  nor  even  the 
Catholic  Church  in  her  deeper  significance,  but  it 
did  prepare  me,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  receive 


l!  I 
I  1^ 


I!       ii'l 


I 


I 


:i 


254 


IHE    CONVERT. 


them.  My  philosophy  had  answered  all  my  ob- 
jections to  the  Catholic  system,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
and  had  supplied  mo  with  all  the  principles  which 
that  system  presupposes,  and  which  prove  that  it 
harmonizes  with  the  dictates  of  reason  and  the 
demands  of  nature.  There  is  in  the  Christian 
Church  and  in  Christian  communion  infinitely  more 
than  in  my  doctrine  of  life  and  communion  j  but 
there  is  nothing  opposed  to  that  doctrine,  or  which 
makes  it  necessary  for  a  Catholic  to  exclude  it. 
The  law  of  life  I  asserted  is  a  real,  a  genuine,  and  a 
universal  law ;  the  communion  I  asserted  is  a  real 
and  genuine  communion,  and  is  included  even  in  the 
doctrine  of  Christian  communion  j  but  in  Christian 
communion  there  is  an  immediate  communion  with 
Christ,  an  increase  of  life  from  the  Incarnate  God, 
the  very  source  and  fountain  of  all  Christian  life,  not 
merely  a  communion  with  him  as  he  enters  into  the 
life  of  others.  Yet  there  is  a  communion  with  him 
in  the  way  I  supposed,  a  transmission  of  his  life  j  and 
the  Church,  in  the  sense  I  have  explained,  is  a 
reality,  and  Church  Authority,  Tradition,  Apostolic 
Succession,  etc.,  as  I  alleged,  are  real  and  true. 
These  are  all  included  in  Catholic  theology,  though 
they  do  not,  as  I  supposed,  constitute  it. 

In  making  this  application  of  the  doctrine  of  Life, 
as  I  did,  my  mind  was  intent  mainly  on  one  point, 
that  of  the  real  infusion  of  a  Divine  element  into 
human  life,  by  which  that  life  should  be  supernatu- 
rally  elevated,  and  rendered  progressive.  I  saw 
ihat  the  law  of  life   explained   the  possibility  and 


STRUGGLES    AFTER    LIGHT. 


255 


practicability  of  this ;  but  I  did  not  perceive,  in  the 
application  of  it,  how  far  I  departed  from  the  doc 
trine,  that  both  subject  and  object  when  unthought 
are  merely  latent  or  virtual,  not  actual  j  because  in 
reality,  though  I  accepted  that  doctrine  from  Leroux, 
as  found  in  connection  with  the  truth  he  helped  me 
to  grasp,  it  never  had  any  hold  on  my  mind,  and 
never  received  any  attention  from  me.     Back  of  it 
in  my  mind  was  the  true  doctrine,  that  the  object, 
though  it  may  create  or  actualize  the  subject,  is  it- 
self actual   antecedently  to   human   thought,  as    is 
evident  from  the  fact  that  I  held  to  Providence,  and 
asserted    the   free    intervention    of  God  in    human 
affairs,   that    the   Father   has   life   in   himself,  and 
therefore  lives  independently  of  the  subject,  and  that 
h'    performs  the  miracle  of  raising  the  man  Christ 
Jesus  into  a  supernatural  communion  with  himself. 
It  is  evident  that,  however  I    might    have  spoken 
when  treating  the  ontological  question,  I  was  not  a 
Pantheist,   that   I  held   that    God   is  free   and  in- 
dependent, and  confined  the  law  of  life  I  set  forth  to 
created  existence.     Leroux   erred   by  making   the 
law  universal,  and  by  regarding  all  being  not  devel- 
oping itself  in  human  thought,  as  not  actual.     These 
errors  I  never  embraced  except  in    mere   words ; 
they  never  really  entered  into  my  thought,  and  I 
held  from  the  first,  that  the  law  was  applicable  only 
to   created   or   dependent   existence,  and    that  the 
subject  and  object  are  actual  powers  and  therefore 
act,  not  that  they  are  rendered  actual  by  actiiig. 
Undoubtedlv,  the    intellect    can   be    actual    onlv    in 


256 


THE   CONVERT. 


acting ;  but  it  is  inherently  active  by  virtue  of  the 
imniediate  and  permanent  intuition  and  creative 
presence  of  the  Intelligible,  which  is  God  j  but  it  is 
actual  power  to  know,  before  knowing  this  or  that 
particular  object  as  after,  and  therefore  is  not  actu- 
alized in  any  degree  by  knowing. 

Making  these  reserves,  the  doctrine  of  life  or 
communion  is  true,  and,  taken  in  connection  with 
the  history  or  traditions  of  the  race,  does  all  that  I 
alleged.  I  was  not  thus  far  deceived.  It  gave  me 
the  Church  in  the  sense  I  asserted.  My  only  error 
was  in  supposing  that  the  Church  and  her  doctrines 
were  only  what  I  explained  them  to  be.  The 
Christian  mysteries  lay  infinitely  deeper  than  I  sup- 
posed. But  the  real  advantage  to  me  of  the  doctrine 
was,  not  in  its  erroneous  explanation  of  the  onto- 
logical  origin  of  the  Divine-human  life,  but  in  its 
enabling  me  to  perceive  a  law  of  life,  in  accordance 
with  which  it  could  be  infused  into  us,  and  super- 
naturalize  our  life,  by  giving  to  our  actions  a  super- 
natural principle,  as  well  as  a  supernatural  end. 
This  service  it  rendered  me,  and  this  service  it  may 
render  to  all  who  comprehend  it  j  and  hence  it  is,  in 
my  judgment,  a  true  and  useful  preparation  for  the 
reception  of  the  Gospel. 


; 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

,■■■"■.;  *  '■■>■"■   '---'  - 

A  STEP   FORWARD, 

It  may  well  be  believed  that  I  did  not  arrive  at 
these  conclusions  immediately  and  at  a  single  hound. 
The  transition  from  one  order  of  thought  to  another 
is  seldom  effected  at  once.  Man  is  a  bundle  of 
habits  and  prejudices,  as  well  as  a  being  endowed 
with  reason.  His  progress  from  one  system  to  an- 
other is  usually  gradual,  and  remains  for  a  long 
time  incomplete.  A  ray  of  light  has  flashed  on  his 
mind,  but  he  does  not  at  once  take  note  of  all  the 
objects  it  illumines.  I  saw,  at  first,  very  little  in 
Leroux  to  my  purpose,  and  it  was  only  some  time 
after  I  had  read  him  that  I  saw  the  bearing  of  his 
doctrine  of  life  or  communion,  as  I  modified  it,  on 
theological  questions.  My  mind  was  forced  to  take 
the  direction  which  it  did,  and  to  make  the  applica- 
tion of  it  I  have  briefly  sketched,  by  a  couple  of 
Lectures  by  Theodore  Parker,  to  which  I  listened 
in  the  autumn  of  1841.  The  Lectures  were  the  first 
part  of  the  volume,  which  Mr.  Parker  subsequently 
published,  entitled,  A  Discourse  of  Matters  pertain- 
ing to  Religion,  and  contained  nothing  except  a 
learned  and  eloquent  statement  of  the  doctrine 
which  I  had  long  defended,  and  which  I  have  called 


258 


THE    CONVEUT. 


i|i 


the  Religion  of  Humanity.  But,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  the  moment  I  heard  that  doctrine  from  his 
lips,  I  felt  an  invincible  repugnance  to  it,  and  saw, 
or  thought  I  saw,  at  a  glance,  that  it  was  unphilo- 
sophical  and  anti-religious. 

Mr.  Parker  at  that  time  was  one  of  my  highly 
prized  personal  friends,  a  young  man,  full  of  life  and 
promise.    There  was  no  young  man  of  my  acquaint- 
ance for  whom  I  had  a  higher  regard,  or  from  whom 
I  hoped  so  much.     He  had  very  respectable  intel- 
lectual  ability,    was    learned,  witty,  and    eloquent. 
His  ideas  were  perhaps  a  little  crude,  and  his  taste 
needed  a  little  chastening,  but  his  fancy  was  lively, 
his  imagination  brilliant,  and  his  rhetorical  powers 
were  of  the  first  order.     He  had  devoured  an  im- 
mense   number   of   all   sorts    of   books,    and    could 
discourse    not    badly   on    almost    any   subject.     He 
was  more  brilliant  than  solid,  less  erudite  than  he 
appeared  or  was  thought  to  be,  and,  in  translating 
a  work  from  the  German  of  De  Wette,  made  some 
sad  blunders ;  but  he  was  still  young,  and  his  attain- 
ments were  unquestionably  above  the  average  stand- 
ard of  American  scholarship.     His  powers  of  sarcasm 
and    declamation    were,    however,    superior    to    his 
powers  as  a  reasoner,  and  his  attachment  to  his  own 
opinions  was  stronger  than  his  love  of  truth.     His 
greatest   defect  was  lack  of  inherent    loyalty.     He 
would,  perhaps,  walk    boldly  to   the    dungeon,  the 
scaffold,  or  the  stake,  in  defence  of  the  cause  he  had 
espoused,  or  an  opinion  he  bad  once  emitted,  but  he 
closed  resolutely  his  mind,  his  heart,  and  his  eyes  to 


/ 


A    STEP   FOUVVARD. 


251) 


the  reception  of  any  light  which  might  require  [lim 
to  revise  and  modify  views  to  which  he  had  onfo 
committed  himself.  He  might  be  a  fanatic,  and  dio 
in  defence  of  his  opinions,  but  never  a  martyr  to  the 
truth,  even  in  case  it  and  his  opinions  should  happen 
to  coincide.  He  had  the  pride  of  the  Stoic,  but  not 
the  humility  of  the  Christian.  His  boldness,  firm- 
ness, courage,  and  independence  were  striking,  and 
would  have  deserved  very  high  reverence,  if  they  had 
been  exhibited  in  the  cause  of  truth,  not  simply  in 
the  cause  of  Mr.  Theodore  Parker.  Nevertheless,  he 
has  not  belied  his  early  promise,  and  is  undeniably 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  Protestant  ministers 
in  the  United  States. 

As  soon  as  I  listened  to  his  Lectures,  I  perceived 
that,  though  we  apparently  held  the  same  doctrines, 
there  was  and  had  been  a  radical  difference  between 
us.  We  had  bothj  it  is  true,  placed  the  origin  and 
ground  of  religion  in  a  religious  sentiment  natural  to 
man ;  but  while  I  made  that  sentiment  the  point  of 
departure  for  proving  that  religion  is  in  accordance 
with  nature  and  reason,  and  therefore  of  removing 
what  had  been  my  chief  difficulty  in  the  way  of 
accepting  supernatural  revelation,  he  made  it  his 
starting-point  for  reducing  all  religion  to  mere 
naiuralism,  or,  as  Carlyle  calls  it,  "  natural-super- 
naturalism,"  another  name  for  downright  Pantheism, 
or  rather,  Atheism.  He  held  and  applied  it  nakedly, 
in  an  unbelieving,  spirit  *,  I  held  it  in  connection 
with  many  elements  of  my  early  traditional  faith, 
and   applied   it  in    a  believing   spirit.     When   en- 


260 


THE   CONVERT. 


il' 


■hi 


countering  the  doctrine,  he  was  in  the  access  of  his 
wrath  against  religion,  or,  as  he  said,  ^*  popular  theo- 
logy," produced  by  the  reaction  of  his  reason  against 
Calvinism,  in  which  he  had  been  born  and  reared, 
and  of  his  heart  against  the  inefficiency  and  hollow- 
ness  of  the  sleek  and  decorous  morality  which  formed 
the  burden  of  fashionable  Unitarian  preaching  ;  and 
he  seized  upon  it  as  an  instrument  for  demolishing 
the  Christian  temple,  overthrowing  the  altar  of 
Christ,  and  of  sweeping  away  the  Bible,  and  all 
creeds,  dogmas,  forms,  rites,  and  institutions  of  re- 
ligion. He  was  mad  at  religion,  and,  as  the  Sartor 
Resartus  would  say,  he  wished  to  turn  men  in  utter 
nakedness  out  into  this  bleak  and  wintry  world,  to 
rely  ojj  themselves  alone,  and  to  support  themselves 
as  best  they  might  from  their  own  native  resources. 
But  I  had  long  since  got  through  that  stage  in  my 
disease,  had  long  since  subdued  my  wrath,  and  now 
longed  to  approach  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  Chris- 
tian world,  not  to  remove  farther  and  farther  from 
it.  I  had  learned  to  loathe  doubt,  to  have  a  horror 
of  unbelief,  and  was  ready  to  be  an  orthodox  be- 
liever the  moment  that  I  could  see  my  way  to 
believe  without  violence  to  my  human  nature,  or  the 
abnegation  of  my  reason. 

I  have  already  said  it  was  not  arguments  for 
belief  I  wanted,  but  the  removal  of  the  obstacles  I 
encountered,  or  imagined  I  encountered,  in  the  way 
(if  believing.  Just  in  proportion  as  these  were 
removed.  Christian  belief  seemed  to  rise  sponta- 
neously in  my  heart  and  soul.     The  doctrine  of  the 


A    STEl'    FUinVAUD. 


2C1 


origin  of  religion  in  a  religious  sentiment  natural  to 
man,  which  in  my  mind  had  really  meant  no  more 
than  that  religion  is  adapted  to  man's  nature  and 
meets  an  inherent  want  of  his  soul,  had  removed  the 
most  formidable  of  these  obstacles,  and  placed  me 
with  my  face  towards  Christianity.  It  had  never 
been  in  my  mind,  in  fact,  either  the  origin  or  the 
ground  of  religion,  but  simply  an  answer  to  my 
principal  objection  to  religion  j  and  therefore  I  could 
and  did  include  in  religion  more  than  I  did  or 
could  deduce  from  it  by  a  logical  process.  Mr. 
Parker,  on  the  contrary,  really  made  it  the  origin 
and  ground  of  religion,  the  source  and  basis  of  all 
that  he  included  in  that  term  j  and  therefore  with 
him  it  led  legitimately  and  necessarily  to  sheer 
naturalism.  He  made  it  the  baris  of  his  theology, 
and  therefore  his  theology  became  simply  anthropo- 
logy ;  I  made  it  the  basis  of  solving  an  objection 
to  Revelation,  and  therefore  remained  free  to  accept 
Christian  theology.  Each  applied  it  according  to 
his  wants  and  tendencies  of  the  moment. 

But  these  distinctions  I  had  not  explicitly  made 
before  listening  to  Mr.  Parker ;  yet,  as  soon  as  I 
looked  at  the  doctrine  in  its  nakedness,  as  he  pre- 
sented it,  I  saw  that  it  could  not  support  the  super- 
st  Licture  which  I  had  in  my  own  mind  erected ; 
tliat,  though  it  embodied  a  fact,  an  important  fact, 
it  could  offer  no  foundation  for  real  objective 
religious  belief.  So  far  as  I  had  really  built  on  it, 
n»y  system  was  worth  nothing,  and  was  and  could 
be   only  a   vain  effort  to  devise  a  religion  without 


262 


THE   CONVERT. 


God;  ending  at  best  in  mere  soul  worship,  or  the 
worship  of  my  own  internal  sentiments  and  affections 
projected.  From  the  internal  sentiment  alone  it  is 
impossible  to  conclude  the  existence  of  any  external 
object,  for  the  sentiment,  taken  as  sentiment,  is 
only  an  affection  or  modification  of  the  subject,  and 
indistinguishable,  substantially,  from  the  subject 
itself.  Philosophy  has  never  yet  discovered  a  passage 
from  the  subjective  to  the  objective.  Both  must  be 
given  simultaneously,  in  one  and  the  same  intuition, 
or  neither  can  be  asserted.  To  make  religion  solely 
dependent  on  a  sentiment  natural  to  man,  is  to  make 
it  purely  subjective,  purely  human,  a  development 
of  human  nature,  and  therefore  to  suppose  a  religion 
which  presents  no  real  object  of  worship,  which 
implies  no  God,  no  obligation,  or  sense  of  duty. 
"I'his  would  be  absurd  j  for  religion,  if  religion  there 
be,  necessarily  implies  belief  in  God,  and  the  recog- 
nition of  our  obligation  to  worship  him.  In  it  is 
embraced,  as  essential  to  its  very  existence,  the 
idea  of  intercommunion  between  God  and  man,  of 
object  and  subject,  and  it  is  denied  the  moment  that 
you  reduce  it  to  the  subject  alone,  or  to  the  object 
alone ;  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  identify  as  one 
in  substance,  God  and  man,  object  and  subject. 
Never  was  language  more  grossly  perverted  than  by 
Cousin,  when  he  called  the  Pantheist  Spinoza, 
reliii^ious,  and  made  his  errors  How  from  an  excess 
of  piety.  The  Pantheism  of  Spinoza  is  as  far 
removed  from  religion  as  the  Subjectivism   of  Kant, 

D^Holbach. 


coiam 


leism 


A    STKl*    FLinVAKD. 


263 


Unless  you  can  assert  the  two  terms,  God  and  man,  as 
substantially  distinct,  or  as  two  (distinct  substances, 
bearing  to  each  other  the  relation  of  Creator  and 
creature.  Sovereign  and  subject,  you  cannot  assert 
religion  in  any  sense  at  all. 

Mr.  Parker,  I  saw,  was  right  in  his  application  of 
the  doctrine,  that  religion  originates  in  a  sentiment 
natural  to  man,  and  that  I  must  either  go  with  him, 
and  reject  all  religion  deserving  the  name,  or  seek 
the  ground  of  religion  elsewhere.  This  induced  me 
to  reexamine  what  it  was  that  I  had  really,  thus  far, 
made  the  basis  of  such  religious  belief  as  I  had.  In 
doing  this,  the  vast  importance  and  reach  of  the 
doctrine  of  Leroux,  in  regard  to  thought  or  life  as 
the  joint  product  of  the  intercommunion  of  subject 
and  object,  when  applied  to  religion,  began  to  dawn 
on  my  mind,  and  I  made  the  applications  of  tliat 
doctrine  which  I  have  already  set  forth.  I  found, 
too,  that  I  had  never  really  built  so  exclusively  on 
tlie  doctrine  of  Benjamin  Constant  as  in  my  mental 
confusion  I  had  supposed,  and  that  I  had  really 
approached  in  principle  nearer  to  the  Christian 
world  than  I  had  myself  imagined.  While  admit- 
ting still  the  religious  sentiment  as  in  some  sense 
natural  to  man,  and  therefore  proving  that  man  may 
be  religious  without  violence  to  his  nature,  indeed,  in 
harmony  with  it,  I  now  explicitly  rejected  tiiat 
sentiment  as  the  origin  and  ground  of  relij^ion,  and 
denied  that  religion  is  simply  the  result  of  its  devel- 
opment. I  placed  the  origin  and  ground  of  religion 
in  the  relation  of  Creator  and  creature,  of  God  an  I 


204 


THK    COXVKUT. 


man,  made  known  to  man  by  Qod  himself,  and  held 
it  to  be  the  infusion,  through  communion,  of  a 
supernatural  life  into  natural  human  life.  In  this 
sense  I  reviewed  Mr.  Parker^s  Lectures,  when  pub- 
lished in  a  volume.  In  reviewing  the  volume  and 
refuting  its  pantheism,  naturalism,  or  infidelity,  I 
found  myself  advancing  step  by  step  towards  real 
Christian  belief.  I  was  impressed,  as  I  never  had 
been  before,  with  the  utter  insufficiency,  the  noth- 
ingness, of  the  system  to  which  I  had  been  more  or 
less  attached  for  nearly  twenty  years,  and  which,  I 
must  say,  had  never  satisfied  my  reason.  I  caught 
glimpses  of  Christian  trutlis  which  were  to  me  both 
new  and  cheering,  and  I  saw,  though  dimly  as  yet. 
that  the  deeper  philosophy  was  with  the  orthodox, 
not  with  the  heterodox.  I  began  to  discover  that 
the  doctrine  of  the  Church  in  the  Catholic  sense 
was  far  profounder  and  truer  than  the  doctrine  of 
No-Church  asserted  by  Dr.  Channing  and  my  Uni- 
tarian friends.  I  obtained  the  main  conceptions  of 
the  Church,  and  of  her  principal  dogmas,  which  I 
have  set  forth  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  and  went  so 
far  as  to  assert  the  problem  of  our  age  is,  "  Cath- 
olicity without  the  Papacy." 

This  problem  I  thought  I  could  solve  by  my  doc- 
trine of  life.  My  first  step  was  iko  proclaim  that  doc- 
trine, and  the  Catholicity  it  had  led  me  to  adopt. 
The  great  thing  was  to  revive  Church  principles,  to 
induce  people  to  regard  the  Church  as  an  organism, 
and  to  effect,  if  possible,  the  reunion  of  Christen- 
dom, now  broken    into    fragments,  not    on    a    new 


t 


n 


iii 


"■1) 


A  sTi:r  KoinvA!:n. 


i:fir) 


Cliurch  busid;  but  really  on  what  had  been  the  basis 
of  the  Church  from  the  beginning.  Filled  with  this 
thought,  I  consented  to  become  one  of  the  editors 
of  The  Christian  World,  a  new  weekly  journal,  pub- 
lished by  a  brother  of  the  late  Dr.  William  EUery 
Channing,  and  which  I  trusted  to  be  able  to  make 
the  organ  of  my  views.  J  commenced  in  that  jour- 
nal a  series  of  essays  on  The  Mission  of  Jesus,  which 
attracted  no  little  attention.  The  design  of  these 
essays  was  to  develop  and  apply  to  the  explanation 
of  Christianity  my  doctrine  of  life  or  communion.  I 
did  not  in  the  outset  see  very  clearly  where  I  should 
land,  but  I  hoped  to  do  something  to  draw  attention 
to  the  Church  as  a  living  organism,  and  the  medium 
through  which  the  S  n  of  God  practically  redeems, 
saves,  or  blesses  mankind.  Ttie  first  and  second 
essays  pleased  my  Unitarian  friends,  the  third  drew 
forth  a  warm  approbation  from  a  Puritan  journal,  the 
fourth  threw  the  Tractarians  into  ecstasies,  and  the 
I^cw  York  Churchman,  then  edited  by  the  well-known 
Dr.  Seabury,  announced  in  its  prefatory  remarks  to 
some  extracts  it  made  from  it,  that  a  new  era  had 
dawned  on  the  Puritan  city  of  Boston;  the  fifth, 
sixth,  and  seventh  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
Catholic  journals,  which  reproduced  them,  or  por- 
tions of  them,  with  approbatory  remarks.  The  eighth, 
which  was  to  answer  the  question.  Which  is  the 
true  Church  or  Body  of  Christ  ?  the  publisher  of  The 
Christian  World  refused  to  insert,  and  therefore  was 
not  published.  A  Catholic  editor  kindly  offered  me 
ihe  use  of  his  columns,  but  I  respectfully  declined 

^^  12 


.^^1^< 


i^ 


iMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


I 


1.0  ^^Vi 

^^     «»  Bi^   12.2 

1.1  =•"■" 


u 


L25  11.4    11.6 


I^otDgFEiphic 

ScMices 

Corporation 


23  WnST  MAM  STRUT 

WnSTIt,N.Y.  14SM 

(71*)t7a-4S03 


2G6 


THE  CONVERT. 


!i" 


I 


his  offer.  The  essay  was  the  concluding  one,  and  as 
I  hesitated,  and  evaded  a  direct  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion raised,  I  was  not  sorry  that  I  had  a  good  excuse 
for  not  publishing  it. 

Till  I  commenced  writing  this  series  of  essays,  I 
had  no  thought  of  ever  becoming  a  Roman  Catholic ; 
and  it  was  not  till  I  saw  my  articles  copied  into  a 
Catholic  journal;  that  even  the  possibility  of  such  a 
termination  of  my  researches  presented  itself  to  my 
mind.  I  found  myself  with  my  starting-point  led 
by  an  invincible  logic  to  assert  the  Catholic  Church 
as  the  true  Church  or  living  body  of  Christ.  To  be 
logical,  I  saw  I  must  accept  that  Church,  and  accept 
her  as  authoritative  for  natural  reason,  and  then 
take  her  own  explanation  of  herself  and  of  her  doc- 
trines as  true.  All  my  principles  required  me,  and 
my  first  impulse,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment, 
was,  to  do  it ;  yet  I  hesitated,  and  it  was  over  a  year 
before  I  made  up  my  mind  to  submit  myself  to  her 
instructions  and  directions. 

My  doctrine  of  life  or  communion  did  not  include 
in  itself,  as  I  supposed,  the  whole  of  Catholicity ; 
but,  in  assuming  it  to  be  true,  and  a  fair  expression 
of  the  rational  elements  of  Catholic  theology,  there 
was  no  great  error.  It  did  not  bring  me  into  the  Cath- 
olic Church,  but  it  did  bring  me  to  the  recognition  of 
those  great  principles,  which,  taken  in  connection 
with  the  unquestioned  historical  facts  in  the  case, 
required  me  either  to  renounce  my  reason,  or  go 
farther  and  accept  the  Church  and  her  doctrines,  in 
her  own  sense,  not  merely  in  the  sense  in  which  I 


Ml 


A   STEP   FORWARD. 


10/ 


go 


had  asserted  thfm  in  my  philosophy.  But  this  I 
was  not  at  once  prepared  to  do;  and  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life  I  refused  to  follow  out  my  prin- 
ciples, so  long  as  I  held  them,  and  to  accept  their  last 
consequences. 

I  have  been  accused  of  precipitancy  and  rashness 
in  submitting  myself  to  the  Catholic  Church,  but  the 
fact  is  that  I  betrayed  inexcusable  weakness  in  not 
submitting  to  her  much  sooner  than  I  did.  I  was 
quite  willing  to  accept  the  Church  in  the  abstract, 
and  defend,  in  a  general  way,  Catholicity  as  I 
understood  it;  but  I  had  so  long  been  accustomed 
to  consider  the  claims  of  the  present  Catholic  Church 
as  out  of  the  question,  that  I  found  it  difficult  to 
make  up  my  mind  to  accept  them.  I  was  unwilling 
to  believe  that  the  Reformation  had  had  no  reason 
against  her,  and  that  the  whole  Protestant  movement 
had  been  vvholiv  wronjj  from  the  beffinninj;.  I  was 
not  prepared  either  in  words  or  deeds  to  condemn 
outright  tlie  whole  Protestant  world,  so  large  a 
portion  of  mankind,  and  that,  as  I  liad  been  accus- 
tomed to  believe,  the  more  moral,  enlightened,  and 
energetic  portion.  I  had  formed  but  a  poor  opinion 
of  Roman  Catholics,  and  was  far  from  being  willii  g 
to  cast  in  my  lot  with  them.  I  had,  indeed,  few 
Catholic  acquaintances,  and  had  only  Protestant 
representatioi  s  from  which  to  form  my  opinion,  but 
I  had  not  as  yet  learned  to  question  the  substantial 
truthfulness  of  those  representations.  One  or  two 
modern  Catholic  controversial  works  had  fallen  in 
my  way,  and  I  had  attempted  to  read  them,  but  they 


208 


THE   CONVERT. 


did  not  impress  me  favorably.  They  were  written, 
as  I  tliought,  in  a  dry,  feeble,  and  unattractive  style, 
and  abounded  with  terms  and  locutions  which  were 
to  mc  totally  unintelligible.  Their  authors  seemed 
to  me  ignorant  of  the  ideas  and  wants  of  the  non- 
Catholic  world,  engrossed  with  obsolete  questions, 
and  wanting  in  broad  and  comprehensive  views. 
Their  method  of  arguing  struck  me  as  mere  sf  «ecial 
pleading,  turning  on  mere  technicalities  and  \erbal 
distinctions,  evading  the  real  merits  of  the  questions 
debated,  aud  puzzling  rather  than  convincing  the 
reason  of  their  opponents.  They  struck  me  as 
cunning,  as  subtile,  as  adroit  disputants,  not  as  great, 
broad,  or  open-hearted  men,  who  win  at  once  your 
confidence  in  their  intelligence  and  sincerity,  and  in 
the  truth  and  honesty  of  their  cause ;  and,  in  point 
of  fact.  Catholic  controversialists,  are  generally 
regarded  by  Protestants  very  much  in  the  light  I 
regarded  them,  that  is,  of  lawyers  speaking  from 
their  brief.  This,  however,  it  is  only  fair  to  say,  is 
not  the  fault  of  the  Catholic  party. 

Then  I  had  been  accustomed  to  regard  the  Cath- 
olic nations  of  Europe,  since  the  time  of  Leo  X, 
as  un progressive,  and  the  mass  of  their  populations 
us  ignorant,  degraded,  enslaved,  cowardly,  and 
imbecile.  I  found  Catholics,  I  thought,  at  the  head 
of  none  of  the  great  intellectual,  political,  social, 
literary,  or  scientific  movements  of  the  age.  The 
great,  energetic  nations  of  the  day  were  the  non- 
Catholic  nations.  Great  Britain,  Russia,  and  the 
United  States.     Even  in  so-called  Catholic  nations 


m 


A    STEP    FOUWAIin. 


269 


the  ruling  or  governing  mind  had  ceased  to  be  Cath- 
olic. The  majority  of  the  French  population  were 
Catholic,  but  intellectual,  literary,  scientific,  political 
France  was  non-Catholic.  The  great  French  phi- 
losophers, writers,  thinkers,  those  who  directed  the 
mind  of  the  kingdom  and  represented  it  to  foreign- 
ers, were  far  enough  from  being  attached  to  the 
Church.  French  journalism  was,  almost  without 
exception,  anti-Catholic.  The  men  who  made  the 
old  Revolution,  rejected  the  Church,  and  instituted 
the  Reign  of  Terror,  were  but  a  small  minority  of 
the  nation,  and  yet  what  availed  the  opposition  of 
the  Catholic  masses  against  them  f  So  in  every 
Catholic  State,  power,  learning,  science,  energy,  is 
in  tlie  hands  of  non-Catholics,  and  the  Catholic 
portion,  though  the  immense  majority,  are  governed 
by  the  non-Catholic  minority.  Where,  I  asked,  is 
the  Catholic  who  takes,  in  any  nation,  the  lead  in 
any  branch  of  literature  or  science?  I  did  not 
attribute,  I  could  not  attribute,  this  supposed  inferi- 
ority of  Catholics  tu  nature  or  to  Catholicity,  but  to 
the  mistaken  policy  of  the  Catholic  clergy,  who 
must  have  lost  the  deeper  sense  of  their  religion, 
become  men  of  routine,  and  incapable  of  compre- 
hending or  meeting  the  wants  of  the  age.  Trained 
up  ill  scrupulous  ignorance  of  the  world,  in  a  super- 
annuated scholasticism,  they  were  unfitted  to  act  on 
the  age,  and  to  take  the  direction  of  the  great 
iimveiuents  of  the  race.  Finding  the  intelligence  ot 
tiie  age  against  them,  they  had  set  their  faces 
against  intelligence  ]  finding  efforts  to  extend  free- 


270 


THE  CCNVERT. 


i! 


II 


li. 


dom,  and  to  carry  on  the  progress  of  man  and 
society  directed  by  their  enemies,  they  had  con- 
demned those  efforts,  thrown  themselves  on  the  side 
of  absolutism,  and  labored  to  keep  the  masses  in 
ignorance  and  slavery,  that  they  might  keep  them 
in  the  faith.  Taking  this  view,  and  only  partially 
understanding  its  explanation,  how  could  I  but 
shrink  from  uniting  with  the  present  Catholic 
Church  I 

Yci  was  this  all.  To  pass  from  one  Protestant 
sect  to  another  is  a  small  affair,  and  is  little  more 
than  going  from  one  apartment  to  another  in  the 
same  house.  We  remain  still  in  the  same  world,  in 
the  same  general  order  of  thought,  and  in  the  midst 
of  the  same  friends  and  associates.  We  do  not  go 
from  the  known  to  the  unknown :  we  are  still  within 

0 

soundings,  and  may  either  return,  if  we  choose,  to 
the  sect  we  have  left,  or  press  on  to  another,  without 
serious  loss  of  reputation,  or  any  gross  disturban  je 
of  our  domestic  and  social  relations.  But  to  pass 
from  Protestantism  to  Catholicity  is  a  very  different 
thing.  We  break  with  the  whole  world  in  which  we 
have  hitherto  lived ;  we  enter  into  what  is  to  us  a 
new  and  untried  region,  and  we  fear  the  discoveries 
we  mav  make  there,  when  it  is  too  late  to  draw 
back.  To  the  Protestant  mind  this  old  Catholic 
Church  is  veiled  in  mystery,  and  leaves  ample  room 
to  the  imagination  to  people  it  with  all  manner  of 
monsters,  chimeras,  and  hydras  dire.  We  enter  it, 
and  leave  no  bridge  over  which  we  may  return.  It 
is  a  committal   for  life,  for  eternity.     To  enter  it 


A   STEP   FORWARD. 


271 


seemed  to  me.  at  iirst,  like  taking  a  leap  in  the  dark ; 
and  it  is  not  strange  that  I  recoiled,  and  set  my  wits 
to  work  to  find  out,  if  possible,  some  compromise^ 
some  middle  ground  on  which  I  could  be  faithful  to 
my  Catholic  tendencies  without  uniting  myself  with 
the  present  Roman  Catholic  Church. 

I  had,  indeed,  found  the  Church  as  authoritative 
for  natural  reason,  but  I  had  not  established  her 
absolute  infallibility :  at  least  I  did  not  see  that  I 
had.  The  Divine-human  life  which  constituted  the 
Church  and  was  its  informing  principle,  was  indeed 
infallible,  but  as  we  receive  this  life  only  by  com- 
munion with  those  who  live  it,  and  as,  according  to 
the  philosophy  I  then  held,  it  is  the  subject  that 
determines  the  form  of  the  life  or  fact  of  conscious- 
ness, I  could  well  concede  that  more  or  less  of  error 
night  find  its  way  into  the  concrete  conceptions  even 
of  Catholics ;  and  as  I  had  as  yet  failed  to  recognize 
the  office  of  the  Papacy,  and  supposed  the  infallibility 
of  the  Pope  a  doctrine  which  no  enlightened  Catholic 
accepted,  for  all  the  Catholics  and  Catholic  books  I 
was  acquainted  with  took  good  care  to  state  that  it 
was  no  article  of  faith,  I  might,  without  any  very 
great  inconsistency,  hold  that  the  Catholic  Church 
had  committed  some  mistakes,  and  impaired  her 
Divine-human  life.  I  had  long  been  convinced  that 
the  Church  in  communion  with  the  See  of  Rome  had 
been  the  true  body  of  Christ  down  to  the  age  of  Leo 
X,  and  I  regarded  the  Apostolic  See  as  the  central* 
source  of  the  Christian  life ;  but  the  body  seemed  to 
me  to  have  been  broken  into  fragments,  and  to  exist 


272 


THE  CONVERT. 


ii' 


no  longer  in  iU  integrity.  The  Roman  Catholic 
Church  was  undoubtedly  the  larger  fragment,  the 
one  through  which  the  main  current  of  the  Divine- 
human  life  continued  to  flow;  but  no  man  would 
dare  say  that  nothing  of  that  life  is  or  can  be  lived 
outside  of  her  communion,  and  I  had  found  no 
Catholic  that  held  there  could  be  absolutely  no 
salvation  outside  of  it.  The  several  sects,  when 
broken  off,  retained  a  certain  amount  of  Christian 
life, — that  amount  which  Christendom  had  already 
assimilated ;  as  is  evident  the  moment  you  compare 
a  Christian  of  any  sect  with  a  Pagan,  a  Mahometan, 
or  any  man  born  and  living  outside  of  Christian 
civilization.  Moreover,  all  communion  of  the  secta 
with  one  another,  and  even  with  the  Roman  Church, 
ha?  not  been  absolutely  interrupted.  There  is  more 
or  less  even  of  personal  intercourse  between  them, 
and,  besides,  there  is  intercommunion  through  similar 
laws  and  institutions,  and  through  a  common  litera^ 
ture  and  science.  They  all  belong,  in  some  sort,  to 
one  and  the  same  family,  and  all,  in  a  measure,  live 
the  one  life  of  Christ.  Though  the  divisions,  separa- 
tions, and  schisms  greatly  enfeeble  it,  they  do  not 
absolutely  extinguish  it  at  once ;  they  only  weaken 
it^  and  prepare  by  evil  communications  its  final 
extinction.  The  real  difficulty  is  not  that  the  Chris- 
tian world  does  not  live  the  life  at  all,  but  that  it 
does  not  live  it  in  its  unity  and  fulness.  Undoubtedly 
they  who  are  attached  to  the  Roman  Catholic 
fragment  ^lave  the  advantage ;  but,  instead  of  unitiug 
ourselvcs  with  them,  we  should  labor,  from  the  point 


lii  ? 


A    STKr   FOIiWAKD. 


273 


where  Providence  has  placed  ui,  to  effect  in  the 
surest  and  speediest  manner  possible  the  reunion  of 
all  the  fragments,  and  thus  restore  the  bodj  of 
Christ  to  its  original  unitj  and  integrity. 

Here  I  came  for  a  moment  in  contact  with  the 
so-called  Oxford  or  Tractarian  movement.  I  never 
fur  a  moment  seriously  contemplated  joining  the 
Anglican  communion^  and,  regarded  in  itself,  Pusey- 
ism  had  no  attractions  for  me.  It  was  far  better  to 
go  at  once  to  Rome  than  to  Oxford.  But  I  looked 
upon  the  movement  as  one  of  great  importance.  It 
was  a  promising  sign  of  the  times,  as  indicating  a 
t<  ndency  on  the  part  of  a  large  portion  of  tlie 
Protestant  world  to  return  to  Church  principles.  It 
would  be  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  Oxford 
movement  was  confined  to  the  bosom  of  the  Anglican 
communion.  An  analogous  movement  was  percep- 
tible in  the  bosom  of  every  sect.  Even  in  the 
Roman  Catholic  communion,  there  was  a  return 
towards  higher  and  more  living  Church  principles 
t)  an  those  contended  for  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
when  a  Bergier  combats  the  Encyclopedists  and 
d(  fends  Catholicity  on  principles  borrowed  from  an 
ihfidel  phihwopliy.  In  every  Protestant  sect  there 
was  in  1S42  a  movement  party,  at  war  with  the 
it  ndamental  principle  of  Protestantism,  and  demand- 
i  g  Ciiurch  union  and  Church  authority.  It  secMned 
ti  at  Protestantism  had  culminated,  that  the  work  of 
<  ieintcgration  and  destruction  had  gone  so  far  that 
u  could  go  no  farther,  and  that  a  reaction  in  earnest, 
nml    uol  likely   to    be    suspended,  had    comnicnced 


274 


THE   CONVERT. 


through  the'  whole  Christian  world  against  the 
Protestant  Reformation.  The  letters,  which  I  was 
constantly  receiving  from  prominent  Protestant 
ministers  of  the  more  important  and  influential  sects, 
denouncing  the  Reformation  as  a  blunder,  asserting 
the  necessity  of  reuniting  the  Protestant  world  with 
the  Catholic,  was  to  me  a  proof  of  it.  The  secret 
history  of  my  own  country  for  several  years  prior  to 
1 844,  would  reveal  a  Catholic  reaction  in  the  more 
serious  portion  of  the  Protestant  sects,  that  would 
surprise  those  who  look  only  on  the  surface  of  things. 
I  was  aware  of  this  reaction,  and  I  hoped  from  it  the 
union  of  Christendom.  The  thing  to  be  done  was 
to  encourage  this  reaction,  to  strengthen  it,  and  by 
bringing  out,  each  one  from  his  own  stand-point, 
true  Church  principles,  to  Catholicize  the  several 
Protestant  sects,  and  prepare  them  for  reunion  with 
the  Catholic  Church  in  a  bodv. 

With  this  view  I  greeted  Puseyism  as  the  most 
important  movement  of  the  times,  and  was  from  my 
stand-point  as  a  Congregational  Unitarian,  prepared 
to  cooperate  with  it,  as  well  as  with  analogous 
movements  elsewhere,  and  in  the  bosom  of  other 
communions.  In  order  to  do  this,  having  for  the 
yeir  1843  discontinued  my  Review,  I  started  an- 
other Quarterly,  which  I  still  continue.  I  started 
it  under  my  own  name,  and  as  the  organ  of  my  own 
views,  but  with  the  real  aim  of  contributing  my 
share  towards  effecting  the  reunion  of  Christendom 
by  expounding  and  defending  the  Catholicity  to 
whio.h  my  doctrine  of  life  or  communion  had  con- 


A    STEP   FvJUWAUlJ. 


275 


ducted  mo.  I  was  tiien  forty  years  of  age^  in  the 
full  vigor  of  mind  and  body^  and  had  won  for  myself 
a  vva\n'ctnh\c  position  in  the  American  literary  world, 
as  the  libt  of  names  voluntarily  sent  in  as  subscribors 
to  the  new  Review  immediately  on  the  appearance 
of  the  first  number  fully  proved.  I  was  warmly 
greeted  in  quarters  where  I  had  hitherto  been  only 
denounced  or  not  recognized,  and  I  felt  that,  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life,  I  had  the  sentiments  of  the 
better  portion  of  the  community  with  me.  But  I 
soon  found  ii  difficult  to  maintain  my  independent 
position,  or  to  defend  the  theory  on  which  I  was 
acting.  The  Roman  Catholics  looked  on,  but  said 
little  ;  several  of  their  clergy,  as  I  have  since  learned, 
said  Mass  for  my  conversion,  and  many,  I  have  no 
doubt,  in  their  prayers  recommended  me  to  Our 
Lady.  The  Puseyites  thought  I  leaned  too  much  to 
Rome,  and  was  encouraging  her  in  her  pretensions. 
My  Unitarian  friends  thought  I  was  too  Orthodox, 
too  strenuous  for  authority,  and  that  I  allowed  too 
little  scope  to  individual  reason;  and,  what  was  more 
to  the  purpose,  I  was  dissatisfied  with  myself.  My 
position,  asserting  the  Church  and  the  necessity  of 
communion  with  her  as  the  condition  of  living  the 
life  of  Christ,  and  yet  really  standing  aloof  from  all 
communions,  belonging  in  fact  to  no  church,  struck 
me  the  moment  I  began  to  consider  it,  as  anomalous, 
nay,  as  untenable.  Was  I  living  the  Christian  life 
myself?  If  so,  what  was  the  value  of  my  reasoning 
in  behalf  of  the  reunion  of  Christendom,  and  of 
com  nunion  with  the  body  of  Christ  f     If  not;  if  [ 


I 


276 


THE  CONVERT. 


WM  not  living  that  life  myself,  what  was  in  fact  ni^ 
own  personal  condition  and  mjr  future  prospects  f 
Suppose  I  die  before  I  have  effected  the  reunion  of 
Christendom — what  will  become  of  my  own  soul  f 
I  am  engaged  in  a  good  work,  but  what  if  I  become 
myself  a  castaway  t  Here  is  matter  for  serious 
thought. 


CHAPTEn  XVIIl 


RKCOME  A  CATnOLIC. 


The  work  of  conversion  is^  of  course^  the  work  of 
grace,  and  without  grace  no  man  can  come  into  the 
Church  any  more  tlian  he  can  enter  heaven.  No 
merely  human  process  does  or  can  suffice  for  it,  and 
I  am  far  enough  from  pretending  that  I  became  a 
Catholic  by  my  own  unassisted  efforts.  Without 
the  grace  divinely  bestowed,  and  bestowed  without 
any  merit  of  mine,  all  my  labors  would  have  been  in 
▼ain.  It  was  divine  grace  that  conducted  me,  rolled 
back  the  darkness  before  me,  and  inclined  my  heart 
to  believe.  But  grace  does  not  exclude  reason,  or 
voluntary  cooperation  ;  and  conversion  itself,  though 
a  work  of  free  grace,  includes,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the 
conversion  of  a  rational  subject,  a  rational  process, 
tiioughnot  always  distinctly  noted  by  the  convert. 
All  I  am  doing  is  to  detail  the  rational  procest  by 
which,  not  without  but  with  divine  grace,  I  came 
into  the  Church,  and  that  not  for  those  who  are 
within,  but  for  those  who  are  without.  Those  who 
are  within  have  no  need  in  their  own  case  of  the 
process,  for  they  have  the  life,  and  the  life  evidences 
itself,  and  they  know  in  whom  they  believe,  and 
are  certain.     But  this  sort  of  evidence   they  who 


278 


THE   CONVERT. 


are  without  have  not,  and  we  cannot  allege  it  as 
evidence  to  them.  Thej  could  take  it  only  on  our 
word,  and  they  have  no  more  reason  to  take  our 
word  than  they  have  to  take  that  of  Evangelicals, 
who  pretend  to  the  same  sort  of  evidence  in  their 
favor.  It  is  necessary,  therefore,  to  show  them 
that  there  is  a  rational  process  included  in  the  case, 
and  to  show  them  as  clearly  as  may  be  what  that 
process  is. 

The  process  I  have  detailed,  cr  life  by  communiony 
did  not,  as  I  have  said,  bring  me  into  the  Church, 
but,  taken  in  connection  with  the  admitted  historical 
facts  in  the  case,  it  did  remove  all  my  a-priori  ob- 
jections, and  bring  me  to  the  recognition  of  the 
Church  as  authoritative,  by  virtue  of  the  Divine- 
human  life  it  lived,  for  natural  reason.  This  was 
not  all  that  I  needed,  but  it  was  much,  and  required 
me  to  go  farther  and  submit  myself  to  her,  and  take 
her  own  explanation  of  herself  and  of  her  dogmas. 
I  saw  this  clear  enough,  but  my  reluctance  to  be- 
come a  Roman  Catholic  prevented  me  from  doing  so 
at  once.  Yet,  even  from  the  first,  even  from  the 
moment  I  came  to  the  recognition  of  the  Church 
as  authoritative,  I  felt,  though  I  refused  personally 
to  change  my  position,  that  I  must  take  what  had 
evidently  been  her  positive  teaching  for  my  guide, 
and  in  no  instance  contradict  it. 

It  was  evident,  without  any  special  instruction, 
that  the  Church,  that  the  whole  Christian  world,  pro- 
posed a  very  different  end  as  the  true  end  of  lifoy 
from  the  one  I  had  proposed  to  myself,  and  for  which, 


BECU'IK   A   CATHOI.IC. 


279 


during  nearly  twenty  years,,  in  my  feeble  way,  I 
had  been  laboring.  As  a  practical  fact,  the  Church, 
no  doubt,  really  does  aid  the  progress  of  society, 
and  tend  to  give  us  a  heaven  even  on  earth,  but  this 
is  not  the  end  she  proposes,  or  what  she  directly 
aims  to  effect.  The  end  she  proposes  is  not  attain- 
able in  this  world,  and  the  heaven  she  points  to  is  a 
reward  to  be  received  only  after  this  life.  There 
could  be  no  doubt  that  she  taught  endless  beatitude 
as  the  reward  of  the  good,  and  endless  misery  as 
the  punishment  of  the  wicked.  The  good  are  they 
who  in  this  world  live  the  life  of  Christ,  the  wicked 
are  they  who  live  it  not,  and  even  refuse  to  live  it. 
There  needs  no  church  or  priest  to  tell  me  that  I  am 
not  living  that  life,  and  that,  if  I  die  as  I  am,  I  shall 
assuredly  go  to  hell.  Now  as  I  have  no  wisii  to  go 
to  hell,  something  must  be  done,  and  done  without 
delay. 

It  is  all  very  well,  no  doubt,  to  follow  the  exam- 
ple of  the  weeping  Isis.and  seek  to  gather  up  the 
fragments  of  the  torn  body  of  our  Lord,  and  restore 
it  to  its  Unity  and  integrity  ;  but  what  will  it  avail 
me  if  I  remain  severed  from  that  body,  and  refuse 
to  do  what  the  Church  commands  t  How  can  I  con- 
sistently ask  the  obedience  of  others  while  I  refuse 
my  own  ?  Rewards  and  punishments  are  personal, 
and  meted  out  to  men  as  individuals,  not  as  colUx*- 
tive  bodies.  There  is,  then,  but  one  rational  ijourse 
for  me  to  take,  that  of  going  to  the  Church,  and 
begging  her  to  take  charge  of  me,  and  do  with  nic 
what  she  judges  proper.     As  the   Roman    Catholic 


280 


THE   CONVEBT. 


Church  is  clearly  the  Church  of  history,  the  only 
Church  that  can  have  the  slightest  historical  claim 
to  be  regarded  as  the  body  of  Christ,  it  is  to  her  I 
i  must  go,  and  her  teachings,  as  given  through  her 
)astors,  that  I  must  accept  as  authoritative  for 
latural  reason.  It  was,  no  doubt,  unpleasant  to  take 
>uch  a  step,  but  to  be  eternally  damned  would,  after 
ill,  be  a  great  deal  unpleasanter.  Accordingly,  with 
fear  and  trembling,  and  yet  with  firmness  of  purpose, 
in  the  last  week  of  May,  1844,  I  sought  an  interview 
with  the  late  Right  Reverend  Benedict  Joseph 
Fenwick,  the  learned  Bishop  of  Boston,  and  in  the 
following  week  visited  him  again,  avowed  my  wish  to 
become  a  Catholic,  and  begged  him  to  be  so  kind  as  to 
introduce  me  to  some  one  who  would  take  the  trouble 
to  instruct  me,  and  prepare  me  for  reception,  if  found 
worthy,  into  the  communion  of  the  Church.  He  im- 
mediately introduced  me  to  his  coadjutor,  who  has 
succeeded  him,  the  Right  Reverend  John  Bernard 
Fitzpatrick,  D.  D.  Of  Bishop  Fenwick,  who  died 
in  the  peace  of  the  Lord,  August  12,  1846,  and 
who  has  left  a  memory  precious  to  the  American 
Church,  I  have  given,  in  my  Review  for  the  follow- 
ing October,  a  sketch  to  which  I  can  add  nothing, 
and  from  which  I  have  nothing  to  abate.  He  was  a 
native  of  Maryland,  descended  from  an  old  Catholic 
family  that  came  over  with  the  first  settlers  of 
the  colony,  and  to  whom  the  American  Church  is 
indebted  for  some  of  her  brightest  ornaments.  He 
was  a  great  and  good  man,  a  man  of  various  and 
solid  learning,  a  tender  heart,  unaffected  piety,  and 


Bi:COME   A   CATIIOIJC. 


281 


untiring  zeal  in  his  ministry.  Delicacy  and  his  own 
•  retiring  character  prevent  me  from  speaking  uf  liis 
successor,  the  present  Bishop  of  Boston,  in  tho 
terms  which  naturally  present  themselves.  lie  was 
my  instructor,  my  confessor,  my  spiritual  director, 
and  my  personal  friend,  for  eleven  years ;  my  inter- 
course with  him  was  intimate,  cordial,  and  aflfection- 
ate,  and  I  owe  him  more  than  it  is  possible  f«>r  mo 
to  owe  to  any  other  man.  I  have  met  men  of  more 
various  erudition  and  higher  scientific  attainments  ; 
I  have  met  men  of  bolder  fancy  and  more  creative 
imaginations;  but  I  have  never  met  a  man  of  a 
clearer  head,  a  firmer  intellectual  grasp,  a  sounder 
judgment,  or  a  warmer  heart.  He  taught  me  my 
catechism  and  my  theology ;  and,  though  I  have 
found  men  who  made  a  far  greater  display  of  theologi- 
cal erudition,  I  have  never  met  an  abler  or  sounder 
theologian.  However  for  a  moment  T  may  have 
been  attracted  by  one  or  another  theological  school, 
I  have  invariably  found  myself  obliged  to  come  back 
at  last  to  the  views  he  taught  me.  If  my  Review 
has  any  theological  merit,  if  it  has  earned  any  repu- 
tation as  a  stanch  and  uncompromising  defender  of 
the  Catholic  faith,  that  merit  is  principally  due, 
under  God,  to  him,  to  his  instructions,  to  his  advice, 
to  his  encouragement,  and  his  uniform  support.  Its 
faults,  its  shortcomings,  or  its  demerits,  are  my  own. 
I  know  that,  in  saying  this,  I  offend  his  modesty,  hii 
unaffected  Christian  humility ;  but  less  I  could  not 
say  without  violence  to  my  own  feelings,  the  deep 
reverence,  the  warm  love,  and  profound  gratitude 


282 


THE  CONVERT. 


with  which  I  always  recall,  and  trust  I  ulways  shall 
recall,  his  name  and  his  services  to  me. 

Bishop  Fitzpatrick  received  me  with  civility,  but 
with  a  certain  degree  of  distrust.  He  had  been  a 
little  prejudiced  against  me,  and  doubted  the  motives 
which  led  so  proud  and  so  conceited  a  man,  as  he 
regarded  me,  to  seek  admission  into  the  Communion 
of  the  Church.  It  was  two  or  three  months  before 
we  could  come  to  a  mutual  understanding.  There 
was  a  difficulty  in  the  way  that  I  did  not  dare  ex- 
plain to  him,  and  he  instinctively  detected  in  me 
a  want  of  entire  frankness  and  unreserve.  I  had 
been  led  to  the  Church  by  the  application  I  had 
made  of  my  doctrine  of  life  by  communion,  and  I 
will  own  that  I  thought  that  I  found  in  it  a  method 
of  leading  others  to  the  Church  which  Catholics  had 
overlooked  or  neglected  to  use.  I  really  thought 
that  I  had  made  some  philosophical  discoveries 
which  would  be  of  value  even  to  Catholic  theolo- 
gians in  convincing  and  converting  unbelievers,  and 
I  dreaded  to  have  them  rejected  by  the  Catholic 
Bishop.  But  I  perceived  almost  instantly  that  he 
either  was  ignorant  of  my  doctrine  of  life,  or  placed 
no  confidence  in  it ;  and  I  felt  that  he  was  far  more 
likely,  bred  as  he  had  been  in  a  different  philosophi- 
cal school  from  myself,  to  oppose  than  to  accept  it. 
I  had  indeed,  however  highly  I  esteemed  the  doctrine, 
no  special  attachment  to  it  for  its  own  sake,  and 
could,  so  far  as  it  was  concerned,  give  it  up  at  a 
word,  without  a  single  regret ;  but,  if  I  rejected  or 
waived  it,  what   reason   had   I   for   regarding  the 


BECOME  I  CATHOLIC. 


283 


laU 


Church  as  authoritative  for  natural  reason,  or  for 
.'^co^nizing  any  authority  in  the  Bishop  himself  to 
teach  me  T     Here  was  the  difficulty. 

This  difficulty  remained  a  good  while.  I  dared 
not  state  it^  lest  the  Catholic  Bishop  himself  should 
deprive  me  of  all  reason  for  becoming  a  Catholic,  and 
send  me  back  into  the  world  utterly  naked  and  des-> 
titutc.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  the  Church 
was  my  last  plank  of  safety,  that  it  was  communion 
with  the  Church  or  death.  I  must  be  a  Catholic, 
and  yet  could  not  and  would  not  be  one  blindly.  I 
had  gone  it  blind  once,  and  had  lost  all,  and  would 
not  do  so  again.  My  trouble  was  great,  and  the 
Bishop  could  not  relieve  me,  for  I  dared  not  disclose 
to  him  its  source.  But  Providence  did  not  desert 
me ;  and  I  soon  discovered  that  there  was  another 
method,  by  which,  even  waiving  the  one  which  I  had 
thus  far  followed,  I  could  arrive  at  the  authority  of 
rtie  Church,  and  prove,  even  in  a  clearer  and  more 
direct  manner,  her  Divine  commission  to  teach  all 
men  and  nations  in  all  things  pertaining  to  eternal 
salvation.  This  new  process  or  method  I  found  was 
as  satisfactory  to  reason  as  my  own.  I  adopteyd  it, 
and  henceforth  used  it  as  the  rational  basis  of  my 
argument  for  the  Church.  So,  in  point  of  fact,  I 
was  not  received  into  the  Church  on  the  strength 
of  the  philosophical  doctrine  I  had  embraced,  but 
on  the  strength  of  another,  and,  perhaps,  a  more 
convincing  process. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  develop  this  new  process 
Here,  for  it  is  the  ordinary  process  adopted  by  Cath- 


28i 


THK  CONVERT. 


olic  theologians,  and  may  be  found  drawn  out  at  length 
in  almost  every  modern  Course  of  Theology.  It  may, 
also,  be  found  developed  under  some  of  its  aspects 
in  almost  any  article  I  have  since  written  in  my 
Review,  but  more  especially  in  an  article  entitled 
The  Church  against  No-Church,  published  April, 
1845.  I  found  it  principally  in  Billuart's  Treatises 
de  Deo,  de  Fide,  de  Begulis  Fidei,  and  de  Ecclesia  ; 
and  an  excellent  summary  and  lucid  statement  of  it, 
or  what  are  usually  called  ^^  motives  of  credibility," 
may  be  found  in  Pointer's  Evidences  of  Christianity, 
and  also  in  the  Evidences  oj  Catholicitu,  by  Dr 
Spalding,  the  present  able  and  learned  Bishop  of 
Louisville,  Kentucky.  Though  I  accepted  this 
method  and  was  satisfied  by  it  before  I  entered  the 
Church,  yet  it  was  not  that  by  which  I  was  brought 
from  unbelief  to  the  Church ;  and  it  only  served  to 
justify  and  confirm  by  another  process  the  convic- 
tions to  which  I  had  been  brought  by  my  application 
to  history  and  the  traditions  of  the  race,  of  the 
doctrine  of  life  obtained  from  the  simple  analysis  of 
thought  as  a  fact  of  consciousness.  What  would 
have  been  its  practical  effect  on  my  mind,  had  I 
encountered  it  before  I  had  in  fact  become  a  believer, 
and  in  reality  had  no  need  of  it  for  my  personal 
conviction,  I  am  unable  to  say,  though  I  suspect  it 
would  never  have  brought  me  to  the  Church, — not 
because  it  is  not  logical,  not  because  it  is  not  objec- 
tively complete  and  conclusive,  but  because  I  wanted 
the  internal  or  subjective  disposition  to  understand 
and  receive  it.     It  would  not  have  found,  if  I  may  so 


BECOMK  A    CATHOLIC. 


285 


Buyy  the  needed  subjective  response,  and  would  have 
failed  to  remove  to  my  understanding  the  a-priari 
objections  I  entertained  to  a  supernatural  authorita- 
tive revelation  itself.  It  would,  I  think,  have  struck 
me  as  crushing  instead  of  enlightening,  silencing 
instead  of  convincing,  my  reason.  Certainly,  I  have 
never  found  the  method  effectual  in  the  case  of  any 
non-Catholic  not  already  disposed  to  become  a  Cath- 
o'icy  or  actually,  in  his  belief,  on  the  way  to  the 
Church. 

The  argument  of  our  theologians  is  scholastic, 
severe,  and  conclusive  for  the  pure  intellect  that  is 
in  the  condition  to  listen  to  it;  but  it  seems  to  me 
better  adapted,  practically,  to  confirm  believers  and 
guard  them  against  the  specious  objections  of  their 
enemies,  than  to  convince  unbelievers.  Man  is  not 
I»ure  intellect ;  he  is  body  as  well  as  soul,  and  full 
if  prejudices  and  passions.  His  subjective  objections 
are  more  weighty  than  his  objective  objections,  and 
the  main  difficulties  of  the  unbeliever  lie,  in  our 
times,  farther  back  than  the  ordinary  motives  of 
credibility  reach.  It  strikes  me  that  my  method, 
though  it  can  by  no  means  supersede  theirs,  might  be 
advantageously  used  as  a  preparation  for  theirs ;  not 
as  an  Evangelical  Preparation,  but  as  a  preparation 
for  the  usual  Evangelical  Preparation  presented  by 
theologians,  especially  in  this  age  when  the  objections 
are  drawn  from  philosophy  rather  than  from  history, 
from  feeling  rather  than  from  logic. 

Having,  however,  found  the  other  method  of  justi- 
fying my  recognition  of  the  Church  as  authority  for 


28G 


THE   CONVERT. 


If 


reason,  I  dropped  for  the  time  the  doctrine  of  life, 
and  soon  came,  without  any  discussion  cf  its  merits 
or  demerits,  to  a  good  understandiog  with  the  Bishop, 
who,  after  a  few  weeks  of  further  instruction,  heard 
my  confession,  which  included  the  whole  period  of 
my  life  from  the  time  of  my  joining  the  Presbyteri- 
ans, received  my  abjuration,  administered  to  me  con- 
ditional Baptism,  and  the  Sacrament  of  Confirmation, 
on  Sunday,  October  20,  1844,  when  I  had  just  en- 
tered the  forty-second  year  of  my  age,  and  just 
twenty-two  years  after  I  had  joined  the  Presbyterians. 
The  next  morning  at  early  Mass  I  received  Holy 
Communion  from  the  hands  of  Rev.  Nicholas  A. 
O'Brien,  then  Pastor  of  the  Church  in  East  Boston. 
The  great  step  had  been  taken,  and  I  had  entered 
upon  a  new  life,  subdued  indeed,  but  full  of  a  sweet 
and  calm.  joy.  No  difficulties  with  regard  to  the 
particular  doctrines  of  the  Church  had  at  any  time 
arisen,  for,  satisfied  that  Almighty  God  had  com- 
missioned the  Church  to  teach,  and  that  the  Holy 
Ghost  was  ever  present  by  his  supernatural  aid  to 
assist  her  to  teach,  I  knew  that  she  could  never  teach 
anything  but  truth.  The  fact  that  she  taught  a 
doctrine  was  a  sufficient  reason  for  accepting  it,  and 
I  had  only  to  be  assured  of  her  teaching  it,  in  order 
to  believe  it. 

As  I  did  not  make  use  in  the  last  moment  of  my 
doctrine  of  communion,  and  as  I  had  no  occasion  for. 
it  afterwards  for  my  own  mind,  I  made  no  further 
use  of  it ;  and  when  I  addressed  the  public  again,  pro- 
ceeded to  defend  my  Catholic  faith  by  the  method 


BECOME  A   CATHOLIC. 


287 


juat 


ordinarily  adopted  by  Catholic  writers.  1  did  this, 
because,  seeing  the  Catholic  Church  and  her  dogmas 
to  be  infinitely  more  than  that  doctrine  had  enabled 
me  to  conceive,  I  attached  for  the  moment  no  great 
importance  to  it.  It  certainly  was  not  all  I  had  sup- 
posed it,  and  it  might  prove  to  be  nothing  at  all. 
It  had  served  as  a  scaffolding,  but  now  the  temple 
was  completed,  it  might  serve  only  to  obscure  its 
beauty  and  fair  proportions.  At  any  rate,  that  and 
all  other  philosophical  theories  which  I  had  formed 
while  yet  unacquainted  with  the  Church,  should  be 
suffered  to  sleep,  till  I  had  time  and  opportunity  to 
reexamine  them  in  the  light  of  Catholic  faith  and 
theology.  It  did  not  comport  with  the  modesty  and 
humility  of  a  recent  convert  to  be  intruding  theories 
of  his  own  upon  the  Catholic  public,  or  to  insist  on 
methods  of  defending  Catholic  doctrine,  adopted 
while  he  was  a  non-Catholic,  and  not  recognized  by 
Catholic  theologians.  Was  it  likely  I  had  discovered 
anything  of  value  that  had  escaped  the  great  theo- 
logians and  doctors  of  the  Church  f 

But  this  suppression  of  my  own  philosophic  the- 
ory,— a  suppression  under  every  point  of  view  com- 
mendable and  even  necessary  at  the  time,  became 
the  occasion  of  my  being  placed  in  a  false  position 
towards  my  non-Catholic  friends.  Many  had  read 
me,  seen  well  enough  whither  I  was  tending,  and  were 
not  surprised  to  find  me  professing  myself  a  Catholic. 
The  doctrine  I  brought  out,  and  which  they  had  fol- 
lowed, appeared  to  them,  as  it  did  to  me,  to  authorize 
me  to  do  so,  and  perhaps  not  a  few  of  them  were 


288 


TIIK   CONVKIIT. 


making  up  their  minds  to  follow  me ;  but  they  were 
thrown  all  aback  the  first  time  they  heard  me 
speaking  as  a  Catholic,  by  finding  me  defending 
my  conversion  on  grounds  of  which  I  had  given  no 
public  intimation,  and  which  seemed  to  them  wholly 
unconnected  with  those  I  had  published.  Unable 
to  perceive  any  logical  or  intellectual  connection 
between  my  last  utterances  before  entering  the 
Church  and  my  first  utterances  afterwards,  they 
looked  upon  my  conversion,  after  all,  as  a  sudden 
caprice,  or  rash  act  taken  from  a  momentary  impulse 
or  in  a  fit  of  intellectual  despair,  for  which  I  had  in 
reality  no  good  reason  to  offer.  So  they  turned 
away  in  disgust,  and  refused  to  trouble  themselves 
any  longer  with  the  reasonings  of  one  on  whom  so 
little  reliance  could  be  placed,  and  who  could  act 
without  any  rational  motive  for  his  action. 

Evidently  this  was  unpleasant,  but  I  could  not  set 
the  matter  right  at  the  time,  by  showing  that  there 
reiiliy  had  been  a  continuity  in  my  intellectual  life, 
and  that  I  had  not  broken  with  my  former  self  so 
abruptly  or  so  completely  as  they  supposed.  Till 
I  had  had  time  to  review  my  past  writings  in  the 
light  of  my  new  faith,  the  matter  was  uncertain  in 
my  own  mind,  and  it  was  my  duty,  so  far  as  the  pub- 
lic was  concerned,  to  let  the  doctrine  sleep,  and  to 
write  and  publish  nothing  but  what  I  had  a  warrant 
for  in  the  approved  writers  of  the  Church.  I  acted 
prudently,  as  it  was  proper  I  should  act,  and  I  should 
continue  to  do  so  still,  and  not  have  written  the 
present  book  and  taken  up  the  connecting  link,  had 


BECOME    A    CATHOLIC. 


289 


not  nearly  thirteen  years  of  Catholic  experience  and 
study  enabled  me  to  perceive  that  the  doctrine  of 
life  I  asserted  is  in  no  way  incompatible  with  any 
Catholic  principle  or  doctrine  I  have  become  ac- 
quainted withy  and  that  it  did  legitimately  lead  me  to 
tlie  Catholic  Church.  I  do  not  mean  that,  as  a  doc- 
trine of  philosophy,  it  bridges  over  the  gulf  between 
the  natural  and  supernatural,  for  that  no  philosophy 
can  do,  since  philosophy  is  only  the  expression  of 
natural  reason  j  but  I  honestly  believe,  as  I  believed 
in  1844,  that  it  does,  better  than  any  other  philosophi- 
cal doctrine,  show  the  harmony  between  the  natural 
and  the  supernatural,  and  remove  those  obstacles  to 
the  reception  of  the  Church,  and  her  doctrines  on 
her  authority,  which  all  intelligent  and  thinking  men 
Drought  up  outside  of  the  Church  in  our  day  do 
really  encounter.  I  believe  I  am  not  only  clearing 
myself  of  an  unfounded  suspicion  of  having  acted  ca- 
priciously, from  mental  instability,  or  mental  despair, 
in  joining  the  Church,  which  were  a  small  affair,  but 
als  >  A  real  service  to  a  large  class  of  minds  who  still 
remember  me,  by  recalling  it  and  showing  them  that 
in  substance  I  still  hold  and  cherish  it. 

My  Catholic  friends  cannot  look  upon  my  doing 
so,  after  years  of  probation,  as  indicative  of  any  de- 
parture from  the  diffidence  and  humility  which  at 
first  restrained  me  from  putting  it  forth.  The  doc- 
trine is  new  only  in  form,  not  in  substance,  and  is 
only  a  development  and  application  of  principles 
wliich  every  Catholic  theologian  does  and  must  hold. 
The  fact  that  it  was  first   developed  and  applied  by 


3 


290 


THE   CO.NVEKT. 


one  outside  of  the  Churchy  and  served  to  bring  him 
to  the  Church,  since  it  is  not  repugnant  to  any  prin- 
ciple of  Catholic  faith  or  theology,  is  rather  in  its 
favor,  for  it  creates  a  presumption  that  it  really  con- 
tains something  fitted  to  reach  a  certain  class  of 
minds  at  least,  and  to  remove  the  obstacles  they 
experience  in  yielding  assent  to  the  claims  of  the 
Church.  Non-Catholics  do  not,  indeed,  know  Cath- 
olicity as  well  as  Catholics  know  it,  but  they  know 
blotter  their  own  obitictions  to  it,  and  what  is  neces- 
sary to  remove  them.  If,  in  investigating  questions 
before  them,  in  attempting  to  establish  a  system  of 
their  own,  with  no  thought  of  seeking  either  to  be- 
lieve Catholicity,  or  to  find  an  answer  to  the  objec- 
tions they  feel  to  the  Church,  they  find  these  objec- 
tions suddenly  answered,  and  themselves  forced,  by 
principles  which  they  have  adopted,  to  recognize  the 
Church  as  authority  for  reason,  it  is  good  evidence 
that  these  principles,  and  the  methods  of  reasoning 
they  authorize,  are  well  adapted  to  the  purpose  of 
the  defenders  of  the  faith,  and  not  unworthy  of  the 
attention  of  Catholic  controversialists,  when,  as  in  my 
case,  they  neither  supersede  nor  interfere  with  the 
ordinary  methods  of  theologians. 

Motives  of  credibility  or  methods  of  proof  should 
be  adapted  to  the  peculiar  character  and  wants  of 
the  age,  or  class  of  persons  addressed.  Philosophy 
could  never  have  attained  to  Christian  revelation,  or 
the  sacred  mysteries  of  our  holy  religion ;  but  now 
that  the  revelation  is  made,  that  the  mysteries  are 
revealed,  we  know  that  all  sound  philosophy  does  and 


Hi:C(».Mr.    A    t-ATIlOl.|i\ 


291 


must  accord  with  them — must,  as  far  as  it  goes,  pre- 
pare tlie  mind  to  receive  tlicm  ;  aiul  taken  in  connec- 
tion with  the  historical  facts  in  the  case,  must  de- 
mand tiiom  as  its  own  complement.  Now,  if  I  am 
not  mistaken,  a  phih)sop)iy  of  this  sort  has  become 
indispensable.  The  age  is  skeptical,  I  grant,  but  its 
skepticism  relates  rather  to  the  prevailing  philosophy 
than  to  reason,  of  which  that  philosophy  professes  to 
be  the  exponent.  It  distrusts  reasoning  rather  than 
reason.  It  has  no  confidence  in  the  refinements  and 
subtilties  of  schoolmen,  and,  though  often  sophistical, 
it  is  in  constant  dread  of  being  cheated  out  ol  its 
wits  by  the  sophistry  of  the  practised  logician.  Con- 
clusions in  matters  of  religion,  which  are  arrived  at 
only  by  virtue  of  a  long  train  of  reasoning,  even  when 
it  perceives  no  defects  in  the  premises  and  no  flaw  in 
the  reasoning,  do  not  command  its  assent,  for  it  fears 
there  may  still  be  something  wrong  either  in  the 
reasoning  or  the  premises,  which  escapes  its  sagacity. 
The  ordinary  motives  of  credibility  do  not  move  non- 
Catholics  to  believe,  because  these  motives  start  from 
principles  which  they  do  not  accept,  or  accept  with 
so  much  vagueness  and  uncertainty,  that  they  do 
not  serve  to  warrant  assent  even  to  strictly  logical 
conclusions  drawn  from  them.  Moreover,  they  do 
not  reach  their  peculiar  difficulties,  do  not  touch 
their  real  objections ;  and  though  they  seem  over- 
whelming to  Catholics,  they  leave  all  their  objections 
remaining  in  full  force,  and  their  inability  to  believe 
undiminished. 

The   reason   is  in  the   fact   that  the   philosophy 


292 


THE   CONVERT. 


which  prevails,  and  after  which  the  modern  mind 
is,  in  some  sense,  moulded,  is  opposed  to  Christian 
revelation,  and  does  not  recognize  as  fundamental 
the  principles  or  premises  which  warrant  the  conclu- 
sions drawn  in  favor  of  Christianity.  The  prevalent 
philosophy  with  very  nearly  the  whole  scientific  cul- 
ture of  the  age,  is  not  only  un-Christian,  but  anti- 
Christian,  and,  if  accepted,  renders  the  Christian  faith 
an  impossibility  for  a  logical  mind.  There  is  always 
lurking  in  the  mind  a  suspicion  of  the  antecedent 
improbability  of  the  whole  Evangelical  doctrine. 
Apologists  may  say,  and  say  truly,  that  there  is  and 
can  be  no  contradiction  between  philosophy  and  faith ; 
but,  unhappily,  the  philosophy  between  which  and  faith 
there  is  no  contradiction,  is  not  generally  recognized. 
Between  the  official  and  prevalent  philosophy  of  the 
day,  between  the  principles  which  have  passed  from 
that  philosophy  into  the  general  mind,  and  Catholic 
faith,  there  is  a  contradiction ;  and  not  a  few  Catholics 
even  retain  their  faith  only  in  spite  of  the^r  philosophy. 
The  remedy  is  in  revising  our  philosophy,  and  in 
placing  it  in  harmony  with  the  great  principles  of 
Catholic  faith.  I  will  not  say  with  Bonetty  that  the 
method  of  the  Scholastics  leads  to  rationalism  and 
infidelity,  for  that  is  not  true ;  but  I  will  say  that  that 
method,  as  developed  ariJ  applied  in  the  modern 
world,  especially  the  non-Catholic  world,  does  not 
serve  as  a  preamble  to  faith,  and  does  place  the  mind 
of  the  unb^ever  in  a  state  unfitted  to  give  to  the 
ordinary  motives  of  credibility  their  due  weight,  or 
any  weight  at  all. 


BECOME  A   CATHOLIC. 


21'3 


Modem  philosophy  is  mainly  a  method,  and  de- 
velops a  method  of  reasoning  instead  of  presenting 
principles  to  intellectual  contemplation.  It  takes  up 
the  question  of  method  before  that  of  principles,  and 
seeks  by  the  method  to  determine  the  principles,  in- 
stead of  leaving  the  principles  to  determine  the 
method.  Hence  it  becomes  simply  a  doctrine  of  sci- 
ence, Wissenschafislehrey  a  doctrine  of  abstractions, 
or  pure  mental  conceptions,  instead  of  being,  as  it 
should  be,  a  doctrine  of  reality,  of  things  divine  and 
human.  It  is  cold,  lifeless,  and  offers  only  dead 
forms,  which  satisfy  neither  the  intellect  nor  the 
heart.  It  does  not,  and  cannot  move  the  mind 
towards  life  and  reality.  It  obscures  first  principles, 
and  impairs  the  native  force  and  truthfulness  of  the 
intellect.  TV.  }  evil  can  be  remedied  only  by  return- 
ing from  this  philosophy  of  abstractions — from 
modern  psychology,  or  subjectivism,  to  the  philo- 
sophy of  reality,  the  philosophy  of  life,  which  presents 
to  the  mind  the  first  principles  of  all  life  and  of  all 
knowledge  as  identical. 

Herein  is  the  value  of  the  process  by  which  I 
arrived  at  the  Church.  I  repeat,  again  and  again, 
that  philosophy  did  not  conduct  me  into  the  Church, 
but,  just  in  proportion  as  I  advanced  towards  a  sound 
])liilosophy,  I  did  advance  towards  the  Church.  As 
I  gained  a  real  philosophy,  a  philosophy  which  takes 
its  principles  from  the  order  of  being,  from  life,  from 
iiiini;s  as  they  are  or  exist,  instead  of  the  abstractions 
<tt  the  schools,  faith  flowed  in,  and  I  seized  with  joy 
and  gladness  the  Christian  Church  and  her  dogmas. 


294 


THE   CONVERT. 


The  non-Catholic  world  is  far  less  in  love  with  heresy 
or  infidelity  than  is  commonly  supposed,  and  our 
arguments,  clear  and  conclusive  as  they  are  to  us, 
fail  because  they  fail  to  meet  their  objections,  and 
convince  their  reason.  They  are  not  addressed  to 
reason  as  it  is  developed  in  them,  and  answer  not 
their  objections  as  they  themselves  apprehend  them. 
The  non-Catholic  wdrld  is  not  deficient  in  logical  force 
or  mental  acuteness,  but  it  expresses  itself  in  broad 
generalizations,  rather  than  in  precise  and  exact 
statements.  Its  objections  are  inductions  from  partic- 
ulars, vaguely  apprehended  and  loosely  expressed, 
are  more  subjective  than  objective,  and  rarely  admit 
of  a  rigid  scientific  statement  or  definition.  To  de- 
fine them  after  the  manner  of  the  schools,  and  to 
reduce  them  to  a  strictly  logical  formula,  is,  in  most 
cases,  to  refute  them;  but  the  non-Catholic  is  not 
thus  convinced  that  they  are  untenable,  for  he  feels 
them  still  remaining  in  his  mind.  He  attributes 
their  apparent  refutation  to  some  logical  sleight-of- 
hand,  or  dialectic  jugglery,  which  escapes  his  detec- 
tion. He  remains  unconvinced,  because  his  objection 
has  been  met  by  a  refutation  which  has  given  no  new 
light  to  his  understanding,  or  made  him  see  any 
higher  or  broader  principles  than  he  was  before  in 
possession  of. 

An  external  refutation  of  the  unbeliever's  objec- 
tions effects  nothing,  because  the  real  objection  is 
internal,  and  the  refutation  leaves  the  internal  as  it 
was  before.  The  secret  of  convincing  is  not  to  put 
error  out  of  the  mind,  but  truth  into  it.     There  is 


HECOME   A    CATFrOLIC. 


295 


little  use  in  arguing  against  the  objections  of  non- 
Catholics,  or  in  laboring  directly  for  their  refutation. 
We  can  eflfectually  remove  them  only  by  correcting 
the  premises  from  which  the  unbeliever  reasons, 
and  giving  him  first  principles,  which  really  enlighten 
his  reason,  and,  as  they  become  operative,  expel  his 
error  by  their  own  light  and  force.  This  can  be  done 
only  by  bringing  the  age  back,  or  up  to  a  philosophy 
which  conforms  the  order  of  knowledge  to  the  order 
of  being,  the  logical  order  to  the  order  of  reality,  and 
gives  the  first  principles  of  things  as  the  first  principles 
of  science.  If  Catholicity  be  from  God,  it  does  and 
must  conform  to  the  first  principles  of  things,  to  the 
order  of  reality,  to  the  laws  of  life  or  intelligence  j 
.ind  hence,  a  philosophy  which  conforms  to  the  same 
order  will  conform  to  Catholicity,  and  supply  all  the 
rational  elements  of  Catholic  theology.  Such  a 
philosophy  is  the  desideratum  of  the  age,  and  we 
must  have  it,  not  as  a  substitute  for  faith,  but  as  its 
preamble,  as  its  handmaid,  or  we  cannot  recall  the 
non-believing  world  to  the  Church  of  God ;  because 
it  is  only  by  such  a  philosophy  that  we  can  really 
enlighten  the  mind  of  the  unbeliever,  and  reallv  and 
effectually  remove  his  objections,  or  show  that  it  is 
in  fact  true  that  there  is  no  contradiction  between 
Catholicity  and  philosophy 

The  greatest  and  most  serious  difficulty  in  the  way 
of  the  unbeliever  is  his  inability  to  reconcile  faith 
and  reason,  that  is,  the  Divine  plan  in  the  order  of 
grace  with  the  Divine  plan  evident  in  the  order  of 
nature.     The  Christian  order  appears  to   him  as  an 


V 


296 


THE   COXVEET. 


J 


afteMhoughti  as  an  anomaly ,  if  not  a  Qontradiction, 
to  the  general  plan  of  Divine  Providence,  incompati- 
ble with  the  perfections  of  God,  which  we  must  ad- 
mit)  if  we  admit  a  God  at  all.  It  strikes  him  as 
unforeseen,  and  not  contemplated  bj  the  Divine 
Mind  in  the  original  intention  to  create,  and  as 
brought  in  to  remedy  the  defects  of  creation,  or  to 
make  amends  for  an  unexpected  and  deplorable  fail- 
ure. The  two  orders,  again,  seem  to  stand  apart, 
and  to  imply  a  dualism,  in  fact,  an  antagonism, 
which  it  is  impossible  to  reconcile  with  the  unity  and 
perfections  of  God.  If  God  is  infinite  in  all  his  at- 
tributes, in  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness,  why  did  he 
not  make  nature  perfect,  or  all  he  desired  it,  in  the 
beginning,  so  as  to  have  no  need  to  interfere,  to  re- 
pair, or  to  amend  it,  or  to  create  a  new  order  in  its 
place,  or  even  to  preserve  it,  and  avert  its  total  ruin  ? 
It  is  of  no  use  to  decry  such  thoughts  and  questions 
as  irreverent,  as  impious,  as  blasphemous ;  for  they 
arise  spontaneously  in  the  unbelieving  mind,  and  de- 
nunciation will  not  suppress  them.  It  will  serve  no 
purpose  to  bring  in  here  the  ordinary  motives  of 
credibility,  drawn  from  the  wants  of  nature,  the 
insufficiency  of  reason,  prophecies,  miracles,  and 
historical  monuments,  for  these  only  create  new  and 
equally  grave  difficulties.  What  is  wanted  is  not 
argument,  but  instruction  and  explanation.  It  is 
necessary  to  show,  not  merely  assert,  that  the  two 
orders  are  not  mutually  antagonistic ;  that  one  and 
the  same  principle  of  life  runs  through  them  both  ; 
that  they  correspond  one  to  the  other,  and  really 


BECOME  A   CATHOLIC. 


297 


th  ; 
illy 


constitute  but  two  parts  of  odg  comprehensive 
whole,  and  are  equally  embraced  in  the  original 
plan  and  purpose  of  God  in  creating.  God  could 
have  created  man,  had  he  chosen,  in  a  state  of  pure 
nature ;  but  in  point  of  fact  he  did  not,  and 
nature  has  never  for  a  single  instant  existed  as 
pure  nature.  It  has,  from  the  first  moment  of  its 
existence,  been  under  a  supernatural  Providence ; 
and  even  if  man  had  not  sinned,  there  would  still 
have  been  a  sufficient  reason  for  the  Incarnation,  to 
raise  human  nature  to  union  with  God,  to  make  it 
the  nature  of  God,  and  to  enable  us,  through  its  ele- 
vation, to  enjoy  endless  beatitude  in  heaven. 

The  doctrine  that  all  dependent  life  is  life  by 
communion  of  the  subject  with  the  object,  shows  that 
this  is  possible,  shows  the  common  principle  of  the 
two  orders,  and  thus  prepares  the  mind  to  receive 
and  yield  to  the  arguments  drawn  from  the  wants  of 
nature,  the  insufficiency  of  reason,  prophecies,  mir- 
acles and  historical  monuments ;  for  it  shows  these 
to  be  in  accordance  with  the  original  intent  of  the 
Creator,  and  that  these  wants  and  this  insufficiency 
are  wants  and  insufficiency,  not  in  relation  to  the 
purely  natural  order,  but  in  relation  to  the  super- 
natural. Natural  reason  is  sufficient  for  natural 
reason,  but  it  is  not  sufficient  for  man;  for  man 
was  intended  from  the  beginning  to  live  simulta- 
neously in  two  orders,  the  one  natural  and  the  other 
supernatural. 

Taking  into  consideration  the  fact  that  the  skep- 
ticism of  our  age  lies  further  back  than  the  ordinary 


298 


THE   CONVERT. 


motives  of  credibility  extend — ^further  back  than  did 
the  skepticism  our  ancestors  had  to  meet,  and  shows 
itself  under  a  different  form^  I  believe  the  process 
by  which  I  was  conducted  towards  the  Church  is  not 
only  a  legitimate  process  in  itself^  but  one  which,  in 
these  times,  in  abler  hands  than  mine,  may  be  adopted 
with  no  little  advantage.  The  present  non-Catholic 
mind  has  as  much  difficulty  in  admitting  the  motives 
of  credibility,  as  usually  urged,  as  it  has  in  accepting 
Christianity  without  them.  Prior  to  adducing  them, 
we  must,  it  seems  to  me,  prepare  the  way  for  them, 
by  rectifying  our  philosophy,  and  giving  to  our  youth 
a  philosophical  doctrine  which  reproduces  the  order 
of  things,  of  reality,  of  life ;  not  merely  an  order  of 
dead  abstractions.  Such  a  philosophy,  I  think,  will 
be  found  in  that  which  underlies  the  process  I  have 
detailed ;  and  I  hope  it  is  no  presumption  or  lack  of 
modesty  on  my  part,  to  recommend  it  to  the  atten- 
tion of  the  schools,  as  well  as  to  the  consideration  of 
all  whose  office  or  vocation  it  is  to  combat  the  unbe- 
lief of  the  age  and  country. 


.?,; 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


BELIEF   ON  AUTHORITY. 


If  I  have  made  myself  understood  by  the  reader 
who  has  had  the  patience  or  the  courtesy  to  follow 
me  thus  far,  he  will  perceive  that  my  submission  to 
authority  on  becoming  a  Catholic  was  very  different 
from  that  which  I  yielded  when  I  became  a  Presby- 
terian. In  becoming  a  Presbyterian,  I  abandoned 
the  use  of  reason ;  in  becoming  a  Catholic,  I  used 
my  reason.  In  the  one  case,  I  submitted  because  I 
despaired  of  reason ;  in  the  other,  because  I  confided 
in  it.  The  act  of  submitting  to  Presbyterianism 
was  a  rash  act,  an  irrational  act,  an  act  of  folly ; 
because  no  man  either  can  or  should  divest  himself 
of  reason,  the  essential  and  characteristic  element  of 
liis  nature;  and  because  I  neither  had  nor  asked 
any  proof  that  the  Presbyterian  Church  had  been 
instituted  by  our  Lord,  and  commissioned  by  him  to 
teach  me.  All  the  objections  usually  urged  against 
believing  on  authority,  were  valid  against  my  act  of 
submission  to  Presbyterianism.  But  my  act  of  sub- 
mission to  the  Catholic  Church  was  an  intelligent, 
a  reasonable  act;  an  act  of  reason,  though  indeed 
of  reason  assisted  by  grace,  because  I  had  full  evi- 
dence of  the  fact  that  she  is  God's  Church,  founded 


300 


THE   CONVERT. 


and  sustained  bj  him,  and  endowed  with  tlie  au- 
thority and  the  ability  to  teach  me  in  all  thinga 
pertaining  to  salvation.  I  had  proof  satisfactory  to 
reason,  that  God  had  himself  instituted  her  as  the 
medium  of  communion  between  him  and  men.  To 
Presbyterianism  I  submitted  blindly,  without  a  suf- 
ficient reason  ;  to  the  Catholic  Church,  with  my  eyes 
open,  with  full  light,  because  I  had  ample  reason  to 
believe  that  the  authority  I  submitted  to  could  not 
err,  and  because  her  authority,  while  it  obliges, 
convinces. 

To  all  the  Presbyterian  doctrines  my  reason  was 
opposed,  and,  in  following  it,  I  should  not  only  not 
have  believed  them,  but  should  have  positively  dis- 
believed them.  To  the  Catholic  doctrines  I  had  no 
n-priori  objections,  and  reason,  if  unable  of  herself 
alone  to  accept  them,  had  nothing  to  oppose  to  them. 
Presbyterianism  contradicted  reason ;  Catholicity 
was  above  reason  indeed,  but  still  in  accordance 
with  it,  and,  therefore,  credible  without  violence  to 
reason  or  nature.  In  becoming  a  Presbyterian,  I 
had  to  surrender  common-sense,  and  give  up  my 
natural  beliefs  and  convictions;  in  becoming  a 
Catholic,  I  had  very  little  to  reject  of  what  I  had 
previously  held.  I  have  found,  on  reviewing  my  past 
life,  hardly  a  single  positive  conviction  I  ever  held 
that  I  do  not  still  hold,  hardly  a  denial  I  ever  made 
that  I  would  not  still  make,  if  divested  of  my  Cath- 
olic faith.  I  fell  short  of  Catholicity,  but  in  no 
instance,  where  I  faithfully  followed  reason,  did  I 
run  counter  to  it.     The  change  I  underwent  was  in 


ir.:i.ii:F  ox  althoritv. 


301 


taking  on,  rather  than  in  casting  ofFj  and  my  Cath- 
olic faith  was,  under  the  grace  of  God,  the  slow  and 
gradual  accumulation  of  twenty-fivo  years  of  intense 
mental  activity,  and  incessant  struggle  for  light,  and 
a  religion  on  which  I  could  rely. 

Belief  on  the  authority  of  the  Church,  supposi-^g 
that  authority  adequately  proved  or  provahle  to  rea- 
son to  be  from  God,  and  really  his  authority,  is  tlio 
most  reasonable  thing  in  the  world.  All  belief,  as 
distinguishable  from  science,  is  mediate  asseat  on 
authority  or  testimony  ;  and  to  complain  of  the  Cath- 
olic faith  that  it  is  assent  on  authority  or  testimony, 
is  to  complain  that  it  is  faith  and  not  knowledge. 
No  reasonable  man  will  do  that.  The  objection 
usually  urged  by  non-Catholics  is  founded  on  a  mis- 
apprehension of  what  Catholics  really  mean  by  be- 
lieving on  authority.  Authority  in  the  sense  of  law, 
in  the  sense  that  it  simply  obliges  without  convincing, 
cannot  be  a  reasonable  ground  of  belief.  The  State 
may  enact  a  creed  and  command  me  to  believe  it, 
but  I  cannot,  even  if  I  would,  believe  it  for  that 
reason.  There  is  no  necessary  or  logical  connection 
between  the  enactment,  or  the  command  of  the  State, 
and  tlie  truth  of  the  creed  enjoined  j  and  therefore  it 
is  and  can  be  no  reason  why  I  should  believe  it.  The 
command  does  and  can  throw  no  light  on  the  truth 
of  the  creed ;  does  and  can  produce,  or  aid  in  pro- 
ducing, no  interior  conviction,  without  which  there 
is  and  can  be  no  belief.  The  authority  of  the 
Cliurch  taken  in  this  sense  is,  indeed,  no  reason  for 
believing,  that  is,  in  so  far  as  belief  is  an  act  of  'ho 


302 


TIIK   CONVKRT. 


understanding;  for^  in  this  sense^  authority  can 
merely  move  the  will,  and  no  man  can  believe  by 
simply  willing  to  believe. 

In  Christian  faith,  subjectively  considered,  there 
is  an  act  of  the  will  and  an  act  of  the  understanding. 
In  so  far  as  faith  is  an  act  of  the  will,  we  yield  it, 
because  commanded  to  do  so  by  our  sovereign  ]  and 
hence  faith  becomes  an  act  of  obedience,  and  is 
treated  by  theologians  as  a  virtue.     But  in  so  far  as 
it  is  simply  a  belief  or  an  act  of  the  understanding, 
or  a  purely  intellectual  act,  it  is  not  and  cannot  be 
yielded  as  an  act  of  obedience  to  authority,  be  that 
authority  what  it  may.     In  this  respect,  I  was  right 
when  I  refused  to  believe  because  commanded ;  and, 
in  this  respect.  Rationalists  and  all  non -Catholics  are 
right,  when  they  object  to  believing  on  authority. 
Nothing  is  or  can  be   authority  for  faith,  whether 
human  or  divine,  in  so  far  as  faith  is  an  intellectual 
act,  and  distinguished  from  volition,  or  determination 
of  the  will,  that  does  not,  at  the  same  time  that  it 
commands   the    will,    enlighten    and    convince   the 
understanding.     Authority  is  authority  for  the  un- 
derstanding,  therefore   for   that   intellectual   assent 
which  is  called  belief,  only  in  that  it  enlightens  and 
convinces  reason,  or  is  itself  a  full  and  satisfactory 
reason  for  believing, — a  real  light  to  the  understand- 
ing.    Nothing  is  more  reasonable  than  to  believe 
God  at  his  word,  but  we  cannot  believe  even  him  by 
reason  that  his  word  is  a  command ;  we  do  so  only 
by  reason  that  his  word  is  the  word  of  eternal,  immu- 
table, and   absolute  Truth.      It   is  DvoHooking  this 


BKMKF   OX    AnilORITY. 


H03 


distinction,  and  taking  authority  in  the  sense  that 
it  commands,  and  not  in  the  sense  that  it  enlightens 
and  convinces,  that  has  excited  the  hostility  to  belief 
on  authority  we  so  frequently  encounter. 

All  men,  whatever  their  speculations,  admit  the 
authority  of  reason,  and  that  what  is  really  reason- 
able is  really  true  and  just.  But  reason  is  light  and 
worthy  of  trust,  only  because  God  creates  it,  and  is 
himself  its  immediate  object  and  light.  It  is  the 
participation  of  reason  in  the  Divinity,  by  virtue  of 
the  communion  of  our  reason  with  the  Divine  reason 
as  its  object,  that  renders  reason  itself  authoritative, 
makes  it  reason,  or  intellectual  light,  at  all.  We  see 
and  know  things  even  in  the  natural  order,  only  be- 
cause God  immediately  affirms  himself  as  the  intelli- 
gible, and,  by  the  light  of  his  own  being  illuminating 
them,  renders  them  visible  or  intelligible  to  us.  The 
principle,  or  a  parallel  principle,  holds  in  the  Church. 
Her  authority,  though  in  a  higher  order,  is  of  a 
nature  parallel  with  the  authority  of  reason.  Reason 
is  created,  constituted  by  the  act  of  God  com- 
municat  ng  t«>  it  the  light  and  truth  of  his  own  being 
in  the  natural  order,  and  its  authority  is  the  au- 
thority of  the  Divine  light  and  truth  communicated; 
the  Church  is  created,  constituted  by  the  act  of  God 
communicating  to  it  the  light  and  love  of  his  own 
essence  in  the  supernatural  order,  and  its  authority 
is  the  authority  of  his  own  essential  light  and  love. 
The  ground  of  the  authority,  and  the  principle  of 
inward  assent  or  conviction,  is  the  same  in  both 
cases;  and  no  reason  can  be  assigned  or  conceivcfl 


00  i 


THE   CONVERT. 


why  intellectual  submission  to  the  teaching  of  the 
Church  should  be  less  easy  than  submission  to  the 
dictates  of  reason ;  or  why  the  one  should  be  more 
or  less  derogatory  from  the  rights  and  freedom  of 
the  mind  than  tlie  other.  The  whole  value  of 
natural  reason  is  derived  from  the  presence  of  God 
ill  and  to  it,  creating  and  illuminating  it:  this  is  the 
sole  ground  of  its  existence  and  authority.  The  sole 
value  of  the  teaching  of  the  Churchy  the  sole  ground 
of  her  existence  and  authority,  is  in  the  super- 
natural presence  of  the  Incarnate  God  in  her  and  to 
her,  creating  and  illuminating  her. 

The  commission  to  the  Church  of  which  Cath- 
olics so  often  speak,  is  not  merely  an  external  com- 
mission, given  externally  to  a  person  foreign  to  the 
Divine  Person  of  our  Lord.  The  Church  exists  and 
lives  by  direct  and  immediate  communion  with  the 
Incarnate  God ;  nay,  is  his  body,  and,  as  it  were, 
the  outward,  or  visible,  or  sensible  continuation  or 
representation  on  earth  of  the  Incarnation.  Like 
our  Lord  himself,  she  is  at  once  Divine  and  human. 
She  is  the  union  of  the  two  natures  with  the  two  na- 
tures of  Christ  in  one  Divine  person.  Her  authority 
thus  derives,  not  from  an  external  commission,  which 
is  only  its  external  sign  or  symbol,  but  from  the  reality 
of  this  union,  from  God  himself  dwelling  in  her, 
ff'om  the  Paraclete  or  Spirit  of  Truth  who  inhabits 
her,  and  operates  in  her,  as  in  the  natural  order 
he  inhabits  natural  reason,  and  operates  in  and 
through  it.  There  is  nothing  formal  or  forensic  in 
the  case ;  all  is  internal,  real,  living,  and  the  Church 


BSUEW  ON  AUTHORITT. 


805 


is  rendered  through  the  indwelling  Holy  Ghoat. 
in  relation  to  the  intellect,  the  supernatural  light  and 
reason  of  God,  which  is  all  the  most  hesitatin;; 
human  reason  can  demand  for  its  illumination  and 
assent  to  what  she  teaches. 

An  external  commission  maj  suffice  for  obedience 
to  an  external  command.  I  obey  the  powers  that 
be,  when  they  do  not  require  me  to  disobey  God, 
although  I  have  no  belief  in  their  infallibility,  or  in 
the  intrinsic  wisdom  or  expediency  of  their  policy, 
because  God  commands  me  to  do  it;  so  I  obey,  in 
the  government  and  administration  of  external  eccle- 
siastical affairs,  the  officers  of  the  Church,  although 
I  do  not  believe  them  always  wise  or  prudent, 
because  they  have  been  commissioned  by  Him  who 
has  the  Sovereign  right  to  command  me,  and  I  obey 
them  for  his  sake.  But  when  it  comes  to  matters  of 
belief,  this  external  commission  does  not  suffice.  It 
must  be  internal  as  well  as  external,  and  carry  with 
it  the  internal  light  and  ability  that  connects  the 
authority  indissolubly  with  the  truth  of  what  it 
teaches;  that  is,  the  authority  of  the  Church,  to 
serve  the  demands  of  the  intellect,  though  expressed 
through  human  organs,  must  be  really  the  authority 
of  God  himself,  in  his  infinito  light  and  truth. 
Neither  Popes  nor  Councils  in  their  mere  humanity, 
in  th  ir  own  nature,  wisdom,  sagacity,  or  virtue  as 
men,  do  or  can  suffice  as  authority  for  believing  a 
single  Catholic  dogma.  No  Pope,  no  member  of  a 
Council,  is  in  himself  either  infallible  or  impeccable  ; 
and  no  aggregation  of  fallibles  con  make  an  infal- 


306 


THE   CONVERT. 


lible.  No  elevation  of  a  man  to  an  official  station 
of  itself  renders  him  infallible^  or  adds  anything  to 
his  wisdom  or  knowledge.  The  Pope,  if  we  Icok 
only  to  his  external  commission,  as  successor  of 
St.  Peter,  would  and  could  have  only  an  official, 
only  a  reputed  infallibility — ^be  infallible  only  in 
the  sense  of  being  the  court  of  last  resort,  from 
which  there  lies  no  appeal, — the  only  sense  in  which 
the  illustrious  Count  de  Maistre  seems  to  have 
recognized  either  the  Pope  or  the  Church  as  infal- 
lible. The  commission,  if  it  communicates  authority 
for  reason,  must  communicate  the  ability  which 
teaches  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but 
the  truth.  It  is  the  Holy  Ghost  supernaturally 
assisting  the  Pope,  and  preserving,  permanently  or 
for  the  time  being,  h'lz  judgment  from  error,  that 
constitutes  his  definitions  authoritative  in  matters  of 
faith.  The  same  is  to  be  said  of  Councils.  The 
authority,  strictly  speaking,  is  not  in  them  as  their 
own  virtue  or  right,  but  in-  the  Holy  Ghost  who  is 
present  in  thera,  and  whose  organs  they  are.  The 
authority  of  the  Church  in  matters  of  faith,  therefore, 
enliglitens  as  well  as  commands,  convinces  as  well 
as  obliges,  because  it  is  intrinsically  the  light  and 
authority  of  absolute  Truth ;  and  consequently  belief 
on  her  authority  is  no  blind  belief,  no  blind  submis- 
sion to  mere  will  or  power,  but  an  enlightened  and 
reasonable  belief,  as  much  so  as  is  or  can  be  any 
belief  on  competent  and  credible  testimony. 

Of    course,    the   authority,    which   in   this    case 
means   the  inward   infallibility   of  the   Church   in 


RELIEF   ON   AUTHORITY. 


307 


leaching,  must  be  established  to  the  full  satisfaction 
of  reason,  before  we  can  reasonably  believe  anything 
because  she  teaches  it.     But,  this  done,  belief  on 
her  authority  is  not  a  mere  submission  to  power,  or 
a  command}   but  a  true  surrender  to  the    highest 
reason,  and,  therefore,  a  true,  real,  inward  conviction, 
because  her  authority  is  intimately  and  necessarily 
connected  with  the  truth  of  the  things  taught.     That 
God  can  found  such  a  Church,  and  endow  her  with 
the  inward  authority,  without  violating  the  principles 
of  the  natural  order,  or  in  strict  accordance  with  the 
principles  and  nature  of  natural  reason,  is  shown  by 
the  doctrine  of  life  by  the  communion  of  the  object 
and  subject,  which  I  have  already  explained.     Com- 
munion between  God  and  man  is  possible,  although 
only  like  communes  with  like,  because  man  has  in 
his  own  nature  a  likeness  to  God.     Human  reason 
is  the  likeness  in  man  of  the  Divine  reason,  and 
hence,  nothing  hinders  intercommunion  between  the 
reason  of  God   and   the   reason  of  man.     Though 
Divine  reason,  as  the  object,  is  independent  of  the 
human,  and  does  not,  as  Leroux  maintained,  live  by 
communion  with  it,  yet  the  human  reason  lives  only 
by  communion  with  the  Divine,  as,  in  all  cases,  the 
subject  lives  only  by  communion  with  the  objject,  and 
not  reciprocally,  the  object  by  communion  with  the 
subject.     By  this  communion,  the  subject  partakes 
of  the   object,   the   human   reason   of  the    Divino 
reason,  which  is  infinite,  absolute  truth.     The  Divin(i 
Being,  in  this   communion  established   by  himself, 
communicates  the  life  of  his  own  reason  to  the  life  of 


308 


THE   CONVERT. 


the  subject,  so  that  our  reason  lives  in  and  by  his 
reason.  This  is  t'  g  origin  and  ground  of  the  trutli 
and  authority  of  natural  reason ;  and  this  natural 
reason,  thus  in  communion  with  the  Divine,  is  tho 
source  and  ground  of  the  unity  of  the  human  race 
in  the  natural  order,  and  the  formative  principle  of 
natural  society ;  that  is,  in  so  far  as  natural  society 
is  the  society  of  men,  and  distinguishable  from  mere 
animal  gregariousness. 

God  does  not  exhaust  his  light  in  natural  reason, 
any  more  than  he  does  his  creative  power  in  natural 
creation.  In  affirming  himself  in  natural  reason  as 
the  Intelligible,  our  reason  itself  bears  witness  that 
there  is  in  him,  above  what  it  apprehends,  the  infinite 
super-intelligible  ;  that  there  are  infinite  depths  in  his 
being  not  intuitively  affirmed  to  reason.  Hence, 
nothing  hinders  God,  if  he  chooses,  from  creating,  in 
correspondence  with  the  natural, — as  in  his  own  being 
the  super-intelligible  is  in  correspondence  with  the 
intelligible, — a  super-intelligible  or  a  supernatural 
order,  or  from  supernaturally  elevating  reason,  and 
affirming  himself  to  it  as  supernatural.  In  such  case, 
there  would  be  established  between  human  reason 
and  the  Divine  reason  a  supernatural  communion, 
whence  would  result,  by  the  law  of  all  communion,  a 
supernaturalized  life,  constituting  a  new,  supernatu- 
ralized  or  regenerated  humanity  j  that  is  to  say,  the 
Cliurch^or  society,  with  a  supernatural  principle  of 
unity  and  life,  as  distinguished  from  natural  society. 
Suppose  we  become  members  of  this  supernatural 
society   by   the  election   of  grace,    as   we   become 


DKLIEF    US    AUTHOKIIY, 


309 


members  of  natural  society  by  natural  generation, 
and  we  have  not  an  adequate  conception  of  the 
Church  indeed,  but,  nevertheless,  a  conception  of  the 
Church  as  a  society  above  natural  reason,  and  living 
by  communion  with  the  Divine  reason,  in  a  sense 
higher  than  that  in  which  the  natural  human  race 
commune  with  it,  and  therefore  in  a  sense  in  which 
it  is  authority  for  natural  reason. 

This  removes  all  the  antecedent  improbability  of 
Catholicity,  all  the  a-priori  objections  to  an  authorita- 
tive church,  and  renders  the  fact  of  such  a  church  as 
probable  as  any  other  historical  fact.  Take,  now, 
the  well-known  traditions  of  the  race,  in  all  ages  and 
nations,  the  authentic  historical  facts  and  monuments 
bearing  on  the  question,  together  with  the  fact  of 
the  continued  existence  of  such  a  society,  under 
different  forms,  or  in  different  states,  from  the  first, 
and  which  can  no  more  be  disputed  than  the  existence 
of  natural  society,  its  identity  with  the  Patriarchs, 
with  the  Jewish  Synagogue,  and,  since  the  accom- 
plishment of  the  Incarnation,  previously  foretold, 
promised,  and  expected,  with  the  Roman  Catholic 
Apostolic  Church,  becomes  evident  and  undeniable  - 
fo",  if  anything  can  be  regarded  as  certain,  it  is  that 
tlie  Church  in  communion  with  the  See  of  Rome  is 
the  successor  of  the  Synagogue,  the  inheritor  of  the 
Traditions  of  the  race,  the  depositary  of  the  revela- 
tions of  God,  and  the  living  body  of  Christ  on  earth  ; 
the  real  regenerated  human  society.  Come  thus  far — 
and  thus  far  philosophy  and  history,  faithfully  studied 
and  rightly  applied,  do  bring  us — the  rest  is  easy  j 


810 


THE  CONVERT. 


for  then   we   may   take    the    Church    herself    as 
authority  for  her  own  character  and  doctrine. 

This  is  the  process  by  which  I  found  my  way  to 
the  Catholic  Church  as  the  body  of  our  Lord  living 
his  Divine-human  life,  informed  with  his  reason, 
having  its  personality  in  his  Divine  Person,  and 
teaching  with  authority,  because  teaching  with  the 
light  and  truth  of  his  Divinity.  Evidently,  then, 
the  authority  of  the  Church  in  relation  to  the 
understanding  is  the  inherent  light  and  truth  she 
lives  by  virtue  of  her  supernatural  communion  with 
the  Divine  Incarnate  Reason  or  Word,  who  is  one 
with  God,  nay,  is  God,  as  we  are  told  in  the  proem 
of  St.  John's  Gospel.  In  submitting  to  her,  I  yielded 
to  the  highest  reason ;  and  my  submission  was 
intelligent,  not  an  act  discarding  reason,  but  an  act 
of  reason  itself  in  the  full  possession  and  free 
exercise  of  her  highest  powers.  No  act  of  belief  is, 
or  can  be  more  reasonable ;  and,  in  performing  it, 
I  kept  faithfully  the  resolution  I  made  on  leaving 
Presbyterianism,  that  henceforth  I  would  be  true  to 
my  own  reason,  and  maintain  the  rights  and  dignity 
of  my  own  manhood.  No  man  can  accuse  me  of 
not  having  done  it.  I  never  performed  a  more 
reasonable,  a  more  manly  act,  or  one  more  in 
accordance  with  the  rights  and  dignity  of  human 
nature,  though  not  done  save  by  Divine  grace 
moving  and  assisting  thereto,  than  when  I  kneeled 
to  the  Bishop  of  Boston,  and  asked  him  to  hear  my 
confession  and  reconcile  me  to  the  Church,  or  when 
I  read  my  abjuration,  and  publicly   professed  the 


liLLILF    OM    ALTUl»l:nY. 


31] 


as 


Catholic  Faith  ;  for  the  basis  of  all  true  nobility  of 
soul  is  Christian  humility,  and  nothing  is  more 
manly  than  submission  to  God,  or  more  reasonable 
than  to  believe  God^s  word  on  his  own  authority. 

To  believe  what  the  Church  teaches,  because  she 
teaches  it,  is  in  this,  the  Catholic  view  of  the 
question,  perfectly  reasonable,  because  her  teaching 
really  is  authority  for  reason,  testimony  to  the  under- 
standing, as  well  as  a  command  to  the  will.  Author- 
ity for  believing  is  always  necessary,  and  nothing  is 
more  unreasonable  than  to  believe  without  authority. 
Belief  without  authority  is  credulity,  is  folly,  or  mad- 
ness ;  not  an  act  of  reason,  but  an  act  of  unreason. 
The  same  is  true  as  to  the  supernatural  order,  which, 
though  above  nature,  is  not  contrary  to  it,  but  in 
i^s  principles  and  laws  in  accordance  with  it.  It  is 
as  reasonable  to  believe  that  on  competent  and  cred- 
ible testimony,  as  it  is  any  fact  of  the  natural  order 
on  the  testimony  of  men  or  of  monuments.  The  dif- 
ficulty men  feel  on  this  subject  is,  that  they  conceive 
the  supernatural  as  antinatural,  and  the  authority 
of  the  Church  as  simply  power,  giving  an  order  ,or 
command  addressed  to  ^e  will,  and  communicating 
no  light  to  the  reason.  This  objection  is  valid 
asrainst  Calvinism  and  all  the  other  forms  of  so-called 
Evangelical  Protestantism,  but  does  not  avail  against 
Catholicity  j  because  both  the  assumptions  on  which 
it  rests  are,  as  to  Catholicity,  misapprehensions, 
since  Catholicity  presents  the  natural  and  super- 
natural in  mutual  accordance,  as  two  distinct  strings 
of  the  same  harp,  and  authority  as  communicating 


ti 


li 


31-' 


THE   CONVERT. 


light  as  well  as  issuing  an  order.  I  obey  God's  com- 
mand because  he  is  my  sovereign,  and  has  the  right 
to  command  me ;  I  believe  him  because  he  is  truth, 
and  can  neither  deceive  nor  be  deceived.  I  believe 
his  word,  not  because  it  is  his  word  as  my  sovereign, 
but  because  it  is  his  word  as  the  infinite,  eternal,  and 
unalterable  truth,  absolute  truth,  the  truth  in  itself, 
for  God  in  relation  to  the  intellect  is  the  True,  as  in 
relation  to  the  will  he  is  the  Good*  In  relation  to  the 
will  his  word  is  imperative,  in  relation  to  the  intellect 
it  is  light  and  truth,  and  produces  inward  conviction. 
Taking  this  view  of  belief  on  the  authority  of  the 
Church  as  an  intellectual  act,  and  advising  my 
Catholic  friends  that  I  am  not  now  engaged  in 
treating  of  faith  as  a  theological  virtue,  there  can  be 
no  ground  for  the  feeling  so  commonly  entertained 
by  non -Catholics,  that  the  teachings  and  definitions 
of  the  Church  must  needs  operate  as  restraints 
on  mental  freedom,  and  bring  the  Catholic  into  a 
degrading  intellectual  bondage.  Certainly  her  teach- 
ings, her  dogmas,  her  definitions,  do  bind  my  will, 
inasmuch  as  they  are  authorized  by  my  sovereign 
Lord  and  Proprietor,  who  has  an  absolute  right  to 
my  obedience ;  but  inasmuch  as  they  are  at  the 
same  time  light  to  my  reason,  and  put  me  in  posses- 
sion of  the  truth,  they  can  restrain  my  intellectual 
freedom  only  in  the  sense  that  all  truth  possessed 
restrains  it.  They  satisfy  reason  by  providing  it  the 
communion,  without  which  it  cannot  live.  They 
place  the  mind  in  relation  with  its  proper  object, 
and  thus  save  it  from  error  and  falsehood,  which  are 


1 


I 


r 
h 


BKMKK    OX    AUTIOUITY. 


o  t  •» 
«>  I  ■• 


y 


bt 


its  sickness  and  death.     So  far  as  this  is  to  abridge 
our   mental   freedom,  and  reduce  us  to  intellectual 
bondage,  they  undoubtedly  do  it,  but    no   further. 
Reason  can  operate  and  live  only  by  communion  with 
the  intelligible,  and  all  error  is  unintelligible ;  and 
I  cannot  persuade  myself  that  anything  which  saves 
the  reason,  without  violating  her  own  laws,  from  sick- 
ening and  dying,  is  to  be  deplored.  Whoever  makes 
himself    acquainted    with    the    definitions    of    the 
Church,  will  find  that  they  all  tend  to  save  reason, 
as  well  as  faith  itself.     I  have  never  encountered  a 
condemned  proposition  that  was  not  an  error  against 
reason,  as  well  as  a  sin  against  faith.     For  a  man 
who  wishes  to  err,  to  run  off  into  all  manner  of  intel- 
lectual vagaries  and  extravagances,  the  Church,  cer- 
tainly, is  not  his  proper  place,  he  will  not  be  able 
to  gratify  his  insane  propensity  in  her  communion  ; 
but  he  who  would  not  woo  darkness,  who  would  not 
lose    himself  in  doubt  and    perplexity,  who  would 
really  open  his  eyes  to  the  light,  who  would  really 
exercise  his  reason  according  to  her  own  laws,  and 
live  in  communion  with  the  truth,  will  find  in  her 
communion  full  freedom,  and  ample  room  to  grow 
and  expand  to  the  full  capacity  of  his  nature  without 
crowding  or  being  crowded. 

I  have  been,  during  the  thirteen  years  of  my 
Catholic  life,  constantly  engaged  in  the  study  of  the 
Church  and  her  doctrines,  and  especially  in  their 
relations  to  philosophy,  or  natural  reason.  I  have 
had  occasion  to  examine  and  defend  Catholicity 
precisely  under  those  points  of  view  which  are  the 

14 


314 


TIIE  CONVERT. 


most  odious  to  my  Bon-Catholic  countrymen  and  to 
the  Protestant  mind  generally  ;  but  I  have  never,  in 
a  single  instance,  found  a  single  article,  dogma, 
proposition,  or  definition  of  faith,  which  embarrassed 
me  as  a  logician,  or  which  I  would,  so  far  as  my  own 
reason  was  concerned,  have  changed,  or  modified,  oi 
in  any  respect  altered  from  what  I  found  it,  even  if 
I  had  been  free  to  do  so.  I  have  never  found  my 
reason  struggling  against  the  teachings  of  the 
Church,  or  felt  it  restrained,  or  myself  reduced  to  a 
state  of  mental  slavery.  I  have,  as  a  Catholic,  felt 
and  enjoyed  a  mental  freedom,  which  I  never  con- 
ceived possible  while  I  was  a  non-Catholic.  This  is 
my  experience ;  and,  though  not  worth  much,  yet  in 
this  matter,  whereof  I  have  personal  knowledge,  it 
is  worth  something. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


CONCLUSION. 


I  HAVE  now  completed  the  sketch  I  proposed  to  give 
of  my  intellectual  struggles,  failures,  and  successes, 
from  my  earliest  childhood  till  my  reception  by  the 
Bishop  of  Boston  into  the  communion  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  I  have  not  wiitten  to  vindicate  my  ante- 
Catholic  life,  or  to  apologize  for  my  conversion.  I 
have  aimed  to  record  facts,  principles,  and  reason- 
ings, trials  and  struggles,  which  have  a  value  inde- 
pendent of  the  fact  that  they  relate  to  my  personal 
history.  Yet  even  as  the  personal  history  of  an 
earnest  soul,  working  its  way,  under  the  grace  of 
God,  from  darkness  to  light,  from  the  lowest  abyss 
of  unbelief  to  a  firm,  unwavering,  and  not  a  blind 
faith  in  the  old  religion,  so  generally  rejected  and 
decried  by  my  countrymen,  I  think  my  story  net 
wholly  worthless,  or  altogether  uninstructive, — espe- 
cially when  taken  in  connection  with  the  glimpses  it 
incidentally  affords  of  American  thought  and  life 
during  the  greater  portion  of  the  earlier  half  of  the 
present  century.  Whether  what  I  have  written 
proves  me  to  have  been  intellectually  weak,  vacillat- 
ing, constantly  changing,  all  things  by  turns,  and 
nothing  long,  or  tolerably  firm,  consistent,  and  per- 


316 


THE   CONVERT. 


severing  in  my  search  after  truth  ;  whether  it  shows 
that  iny  seeking  admission  into  the  Church  for  the 
reasons,  and  in  the  way  and  manner  I  did^  was  a 
sudden  caprice,  an  act  of  folly,  perhaps  of  despair^ 
01*  that  it  was  an  act  of  deliberation,  wise,  judicious, 
and  for  a  sufficient  reason,  my  readers  are  free  to 
judge  for  themselves. 

Tins  much  only  will  I  add,  that,  whether  I  am 
believed  or  not,  I  can  say  truly  that,  during  the 
nearly  thirteen  years  of  Catholic  experience,  I  have 
found  not  the  slightest  reason  to  regret  the  step  I 
took.  I  have  had  much  to  try  me,  and  enough  to 
shake  me,  if  shaken  I  could  be,  but  I  have  not  had 
even  the  slightest  temptation  to  doubt,  or  the  slight- 
est inclination  to  undo  what  I  had  done ;  and  have 
every  day  found  new  and  stronger  reasons  to  thank 
Almighty  God  for  his  great  mercy  in  bringing  me 
to  the  knowledge  of  his  Church,  and  permitting  me 
to  enter  and  live  in  her  communion.  I  know  all 
that  can  be  said  in  disparagement  of  Catholics.  I 
am  well  versed,  perhaps  no  man  more  so,  in  Catholic 
scandals,  but  I  have  not  been  deceived;  I  have 
found  all  that  was  promised  me,  all  I  looked  for.  I 
have  found  the  Church  all  that  her  ministers  repre- 
sented her,  all  my  imagination  painted  her,  and 
infinitely  more  than  I  had  conceived  it  possible  for 
her  to  be.  My  experience  as  a  Catholic,  so  far  as 
the  Church,  her  doctrines,  her  morals,  her  discipline, 
her  influences  are  concerned,  has  been  a  continued 
succession  of  agreeable  surprises. 

I  do  not  pretend  that  I  have  found  the  Catholic 


coxci.rsiox. 


317 


population  perfect,  or  that  I  have  found  in  them  or  in 
myself  no  shortcomings^  nothing  to  be  censured  or 
regretted ;  yet  I  have  found  that  population  superior 
to  what  I  expected,  more  intellectual,  more  cultivated, 
more  moral,  more  active,  living,  and  energetic.     Un- 
doubtedly, our  Catholic  population,  made  up  in  great 
part  of  the  humbler  classes  of  the  Catholic  populations 
of  the  Old   World,  for  three  hundred  years   sub- 
jected to  the  bigotry,  intolerance,  persecutions,  and 
oppressions  of  Protestant  or  qnasi-Vrotesta.nt  govern- 
ments, have  traits  of  character,  habits,  and  manners, 
which  the  outside  non-Catholic  American  finds  un- 
attractive, and  even   repulsive.     Certainly  in   our 
cities  and  large  towns  may  be  found,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  a  comparatively  numerous  population,  nominally 
Catholic,  who  are  no  credit  to  their  religion,  to  the 
land  of  their  birth,  or  to  that  of  their  adoption.     No 
Catholic  will  deny  that  the  children  of  these  are  to 
a  great  extent  shamefully  neglected,  and  suffered  to 
grow  up  without  the  simplest  elementary  moral  and 
religior.s  instruction,  and  to  become  recruits  to  our 
vicious  population,  our  rowdies,  and  our  criminals. 
This  is  certainly  to  be  deplored,  but  can  easily  be 
explained  without  prejudice  to  the  Church,  by  ad- 
verting to  the  condition  to  which  these  individuals 
were  reduced  before  coming  here;   to  their  disap- 
pointments and  discouragements  in  a  strange  land ; 
to  their  exposure  to  new  and  unlooked-for  tempta- 
tions ;  to  the  fact  that  they  were  by  no  means  the 
best  of  Catholics   even  in  their  native  countries ; 
to  their  poverty,  destitution,  ignorance,  insufficient 


818 


THE   CONVERT. 


culture,  and  a  certain  natural  shiftlessness  and  reck- 
lessnesS;  and  to  our  great  lack  of  schools,  churches, 
and  priests.  The  proportion,  too,  that  these  bear 
to  our  whole  Catholic  population  is  far  less  than  is 
commonly  supposed ;  and  they  are  not  so  habitually 
depraved  as  they  appear,  for  they  seldom  or  never 
consult  appearances,  and  have  little  skill  in  conceal- 
ing their  vices.  As  low  and  degraded  as  they  are, 
they  never  are  so  low  or  so  vicious  as  the  corre- 
sponding class  of  Protestants  in  Protestant  nations. 
A  Protestant  vicious  class  is  always  worse  than  it 
appears,  a  Catholic  vicious  population  is  less  bad. 
In  the  worst  there  is  always  some  germ  that  with 
proper  care  may  be  nursed  into  life,  that  may  blos- 
som and  bear  fruit.  In  our  narrow  lanes,  blind 
courts,  damp  cellars,  and  unventilated  garrets,  where 
our  people  swarm  as  bees )  in  the  midst  of  filth  and 
the  most  squalid  wretchedness,  the  fumes  of  intem- 
perance and  the  shouts  and  imprecations  of  blas- 
phemy, in  what  by  the  outside  world  would  be 
regarded  as  the  very  dens  of  vice,  and  crime,  and 
infamy,  we  often  find  individuals  who,  it  may  well 
be  presumed,  have  retained  their  baptismal  innocence, 
real  Fleurs  de  Marie,  who  remain  pure  and  unsullied* 
and  who)  in  their  humble  sphere,  exhibit  brilliant 
examples  of  the  most  heroic  Christian  virtues. 

The  majority  of  our  Catholic  population  is  made 
up  of  the  unlettered  peasantry,  small  mechanics, 
servant-girls,  and  common  laborers,  from  various 
European  countries ;  and  however  worthy  in  them- 
selves, or  useful  to  the  country  to  which  they  have 


CONCLUSION. 


,')19 


?11 


migrated;  cannot,  in  a  worldly  and  social  point  of 
view  at  least,  be  taken  as  a  fair  average  of  the  Cath- 
olic population  in  their  native  lands.  The  Catholic 
nobility,  gentry,  easy  classes,  and  the  better  speci- 
mens of  the  professional  men,  have  not  migrated 
with  them.  Two  or  three  millions  of  the  lower,  less 
prosperous,  and  less  cultivated,  and  sometimes  less 
virtuous  class  of  the  European  Catholic  populations, 
have  in  a  comparatively  brief  period  been  cast  upon 
our  shores,  with  little  or  no  provision  made  for  their 
intellectual,  moral,  or  religious  wants.  Yet,  if  we 
look  at  this  population  as  it  is,  and  is  every  year 
becoming,  we  cannot  but  be  struck  with  its  marvel- 
lous energy  and  progress.  The  mental  activity  of 
Catholics,  all  things  considered,  is  far  more  remark- 
able than  that  of  our  non-Catholic  countrymen,  and, 
in  proportion  to  their  numbers  and  means,  they 
contribute  far  more  than  any  other  class  of  American 
citizens  to  the  purposes  of  education,  both  common 
and  liberal ;  for  they  receive  little  or  nothing  from 
the  public  treasury,  and,  in  addition  to  supporting 
Iiumerous  schools  of  their  own,  they  contribute  their 
quota  to  the  support  of  those  of  the  State. 

I  do  not  pretend  that  the  Catholic  population  of 
this  country  are  a  highly  literary  people,  or  that  they 
are  in  any  adequate  sense  an  intellectually  cultivated 
people.  How  could  they  be,  when  the  great  mass 
of  them  have  had  to  earn  their  very  means  of 
subsistence,  and  have  had  as  much  as  they  could  do 
to  provide  for  the  first  wants  of  religion,  and  of 
themselves  and  families  T    Yet  there  is  a  respectable 


3  JO 


THE   CONVERT. 


Catholic- American  literature  springing  up  among  us, 
and  Catholics  have  their  representatives  among  the 
first  scholars  and  scientific  men  in  the  land.  In 
metaphysics,  in  moral  and  intellectual  philosophy, 
they  take  already  the  lead ;  in  natural  history  and 
the  physical  sciences,  they  are  not  far  behind ;  and 
let  once  the  barrier  between  them  and  the  non- 
Catholic  public  be  broken  down,  and  they  will  soon 
take  the  first  position  in  general  and  polite  literature. 
As  yet  our  own  literary  public,  owing  to  the  causes 
I  have  mentioned,  I  admit  is  not  large  enough  to 
give  adequate  encouragement  to  authors,  and  the 
general  public  makes  it  a  point  not  to  recognize  our 
literary  labors.  But  this  will  not  last,  for  it  is 
against  the  interest  and  the  genius  of  liberal  scholar- 
ship, and  Catholic  authors  will  soon  find  a  public 
adequate  to  their  wants.  Non-Catholics  do  tli em- 
selves  great  wrong  in  acting  on  the  principle,  No 
good  can  come  out  of  Nazareth  j  for  we  have  already 
in  what  we  ourselves  write,  in  what  we  reprint  from 
our  brethren  in  the  British  Empire,  and  in  what  wo 
translate  from  French,  German,  Spanish,  and  Italian 
Catholics,  a  literature  far  richer  and  more  important, 
even  under  a  literary  and  scientific  point  of  view, 
than  they  suspect. 

I  have  known  long  and  well  the  Protestant  clergy 
of  the  United  States,  and  I  am  by  no  means  disposed 
to  underrate  their  native  abilities  or  their  learning 
and  science,  and,  although  I  think  the  present  gener- 
ation of  ministers  falls  far  below  its  predecessor,  T 
esteem  highly  the  contributions  they  have  made  and 


CONCLUSION. 


321 


o 


I 

Id 


are  making  to  the  literature  and  science  of  our  com- 
mon country ;  but  our  Catholic  clergy,  below  in 
many  respects  what  for  various  reasons  they  should 
be,  can  compare  more  than  favorably  with  them, 
except  those  among  them  whose  mother  tongue  was 
foreign  from  ours,  in  the  correct  and  classical  use 
of  the  English  language.  They  surpass  them  as  a 
body  in  logical  training,  in  theological  science,  and 
in  the  accuracy,  and  not  unfrequently  in  the  variety 
and  extent  of  their  erudition.  Indeed,  I  have  found 
among  Catholics  a  higher  tone  of  thought,  morals, 
manners,  and  society,  than  I  have  ever  found,  with 
fair  opportunities,  among  my  non-Catholic  country- 
men ;  and  taking  the  Catholic  population  of  the  coun- 
try, even  as  it  actually  is,  under  all  its  disadvantages, 
there  is  nothing  in  it  that  need  make  the  most  culti- 
vated and  refined  man  of  letters  or  of  society  blush 
to  avow  himself  a  Catholic. 

Certainly,  I  have  found  cause  to  complain  of 
Catholics  at  home  and  abroad,  not  indeed  as  falling 
below  non-Catholic  populations,  but  as  falling  below 
the::  own  Catholic  standard.  I  find  among  them, 
not  indeed  as  universal — far  from  it — but  as  too  pre- 
valent, habits  of  thought  and  modes  of  action,  a  lack  of 
manly  courage,  energy,  and  directness,  which  seem 
to  me  as  unwise  as  they  are  ofl^ensive  to  the  better 
class  of  English  and  American  minds.  In  matter-j 
not  of  faith,  there  is  less  unanimity,  and  less  liberal- 
ity, less  courtesy,  and  less  forbearance,  in  regard  to 
allowable  differences  of  opinion,  than  might  be  ex- 
pected.    But  I  have  recollected  that  I  am  not  myself 


^f 


k: 


3  J 


THE   CONVERT. 


iiilaliiUlie,  and  may  complain  where  I  should  not. 
Manv  tilings  may  seem  to  me  wrong,  only  because  I 
aiii  not  accustomed  to  them.  Something  must  be  set 
down  to  peculiarity  of  national  temperament  and 
development  j  and  even  what  cannot  be  justified  or 
excused  on  either  ground,  can  in  all  cases  be  traced 
to  causes  unconnected  with  religion.  The  habits 
and  peculiarities  which  I  find  it  most  difficult  to  like, 
are  evidently  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Catholics  of 
tills  country  have  migrated  for  the  most  part  from 
foreign  Catholic  populations,  that  have  either  been 
oppressed  by  non-Catholic  governments  directing 
tlieir  policy  to  crush  and  extinguish  Catholicity,  or 
by  political  despotisms  which  sprang  up  in  Europe 
after  the  disastrous  Protestant  revolt  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  which  recognized  in  the  common  peo- 
ple no  rights,  and  allowed  them  no  equality  with  the 
ruiing  class.  Under  the  despotic  governments  of 
some  Catholic  countries,  and  the  bigotry  and  intol- 
lerance  of  Protestant  states,  they  could  hardly  fail 
to  acquire  habits  not  in  accordance  with  the  habits 
of  those  who  have  never  been  persecuted,  and  have 
never  been  forced,  in  order  to  live,  to  study  to  evade 
tyrannical  laws  or  the  caprices  of  despotism.  Men 
wiio  are  subjected  to  tyranny,  who  have  to  deal  with 
tyrants,  and  who  feel  that  power  is  against  them, 
and  that  they  can  never  carry  their  points  by  main 
force,  naturally  study  diplomacy,  and  supply  by  art 
what  they  lack  in  strength.  This  art  may  degener- 
ate into  craft.  That  it  occasionally  does  so  with 
individuals  here  and  elsewhere,  it  were  useless  to 


CONCLUSION. 


323 


deny ;  but  the  cause  is  not  in  the  Church  or  any- 
thing she  teaclies  or  approves.  In  fact,  many  things 
wliich  Englishmen  and  Americans  complain  of  in 
Catholics  and  the  populations  of  Southern  Europe, 
have  been  inherited  from  the  craft  and  refinement 
of  the  old  Grasco- Roman  civilization,  and  transmitted 
from  generation  to  generation  in  spite  of  the  Church. 
As  yet  our  Catholic  population,  whether  foreign- 
born  or  native-born,  hardly  dare  feel  themselves 
freemen  in  this  land  of  freedom.  They  have  so  long 
been  an  oppressed  people,  that  their  freedom  here 
seems  hardly  real.  They  have  never  become  recon- 
ciled to  the  old  Puritan  Commonwealth  of  England, 
and  they  retain  with  their  Catholicity  too  many 
reminiscences  of  the  passions  and  politics  of  the 
Bourbons  and  the  Stuarts.  They  are  very  generally 
attached  to  the  republican  institutions  of  the  country, 
no  class  of  our  citizens  more  so,  and  would  defend 
them  at  the  sacrifice  of  their  lives,  but  their  interior 
life  has  not  as  yet  been  moulded  into  entire  harmony 
with  them )  and  they  have  a  tendency,  in  seeking  to 
follow  out  American  democracy,  to  run  into  extreme 
radicalism,  or,  when  seeking  to  preserve  law  and 
order,  to  run  into  extreme  conservatism.  They  do 
not  always  hit  the  exact  medium.  But  this  need  not 
surprise  us,  for  no  one  can  hit  that  medium  unless 
his  interior  life  and  habits  have  been  formed  to  it. 
Non-Catholic  foreigners  are  less  able  than  Catholic 
foreigners  to  do  it,  if  we  except  the  English,  who 
have  been  trained  under  a  system  in  many  respects 
analogous  to  our  own }  and  no  small  portion  of  our 


r 


'it 


'« 


324 


THE  CONVERT. 


own  countrymen,  ^'  to  the  manner  bom,'^  mike 
even  more  fatal  mistakes  than  are  made  by  any 
portion  of  our  Catholic  population, — chiefly,  how- 
ever, because  they  adopt  a  European  instead  of  an 
American  interpretation  of  our  political  and  social 
order.  Other  things  being  equal,  Catholic  foreigners 
far  more  readily  adjust  themselves  to  our  institu- 
tions than  any  other  class  of  foreigners ;  and  among 
Catholics,  it  must  be  observed  that  they  succeed  best 
who  best  understand  and  best  practise  their  religion. 
They  who  are  least  truly  American,  and  yield 
most  to  the  demagogues,  are  those  who  have  very 
little  of  Catholicity  except  the  accident  of  being 
born  of  Catholic  parents,  who  had  them  baptized  in 
infancy.  These  are  they  who  bring  reproach  on  the 
whole  body. 

Undoubtedly  there  is  in  Catholic,  as  well  as  in 
non-Catholic  states,  much  that  no  wise  man,  no  good 
man,  can  defend,  or  fail  to  deplore.  I  havo  not 
travelled  abroad,  but  I  have  listened  to  those  who 
have,  and  I  claim  to  know  a  little  of  the  languages  and 
literatures  of  Southern  Europe.  From  the  best 
information  I  can  get,  I  do  not  believe  that  things 
are  so  bad  in  Spain,  Portugal,  and  Italy,  as  Protest- 
ant travellers  tell  us ;  nor  that  the  political  and  social 
condition  of  the  people  in  those  states  is  so  beautiful 
or  so  happy  as  now  and  then  a  Catholic,  who 
imagines  that  he  must  eulogize  whatever  he  finds  in 
a  Catholic  state,  or  done  by  men  who  call  themselves 
Catholic,  in  his  pious  fervor  pretends.  Yet,  be  the 
political  and  social  condition  of  the  people  in  these 


CONCLUSION. 


3i'5 


countries  as  bad  as  it  may  be,  it  does  not  disturb  my 
Catholic  faith,  or  damp  my  Catholic  ardor.  All  the 
modern  Catholic  states  of  Europe  grew^  up  under 
Catholicity,  and  were  more  Catholic  than  they  are 
now  at  the  period  of  their  greatest  prosperity  and 
power.  The  decline  which  is  alleged,  and  which  I 
have  no  disposition  to  deny,  in  the  Italian  and 
Spanish  Peninsulas,  is  fairly  traceable  to  political, 
economical,  commercial,  and  other  causes,  indepen- 
dent in  their  operation  of  Catholicity,  or  of  religion 
of  any  sort.  Moreover,  as  a  Catholic,  I  am  under 
no  obligation  to  defend  the  policy  or  the  administra- 
tion of  so-called  Catholic  governments,  not  even  the 
policy  and  administration  of  the  temporal  government 
of  the  Papal  States.  The  Pope,  as  Supreme  Doctor 
and  Judge  of  the  Deposit  of  faith,  in  teaching  and 
defining  the  faith  of  *the  Church,  I  hold  is,  by  the 
supernatural  assistance  of  the  Holy  Ghost  promised 
to  his  office,  infallible,  and  I  accept  his  definitions, 
ex  animo,  the  moment  they  reach  me  in  an  authentic 
shape ;  but  I  am  aware  of  no  law  of  the  Church,  of 
no  principle  of  Catholicity,  that  requires  me  to 
believe  him  infallible  in  matters  of  simple  adminis- 
tration, which  our  Lord  has  left  to  human  prudence* 
In  those  ni-ntters,  so  far  as  they  are  directly  or 
indirectly  ecclesiastical,  I  obey  him  as  the  Supreme 
(lovernor  of  the  Church,  as  I  obey  the  constitution 
.111(1  laws  utf  my  country,  not  because  it  is  impossible 
iur  him  to  err,  but  because  he  is  my  divinely- 
appointed  ruler.  Much  less  am  I  bound  to  believe 
in   the    infallibility    or   impeccability   of  nominally 


326 


THE   CONVERT. 


Catholic  sovereigns  and  states.  I  am  as  free  to 
criticise,  to  blame  the  acts  of  the  Catholic  as  I  am 
non-Catholic  governments,  and  as  free  to  dispute  the 
political  doctrines  of  Catholics,  whether  monarchical, 
aristocratical,  or  democratical,  as  I  am  the  political 
doctrines  of  non-Catholics.  The  Church  prescribes 
and  proscribes  no  particular  form  of  government; 
she  simply  asserts  that  power,  in  whose  hands  soever 
lodged,  or  however  constituted,  is  a  trust,  and  to 
be  administered  for  the  common  good  on  pain  of 
forfeiture. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  no  doubt  that  much  of  what 
is  objectionable  or  deplorable  in  Catholic  Europe  is 
due  to  the  character  of  the  governments  which  have 
existed  and  governed  the  Catholic  populations  since 
the  epoch  of  the  Protestant  revolt;  and  the  chief 
obstacle  to  the  revival  and  progress  of  Catholic  civil- 
ization in  Catholic  states,  as  well  as  the  recovery  to 
the  Church  of  the  mass  of  European  Liberals,  now 
bitterly  hostile  to  Catholicity,  there  is  just  as  little 
doubt,  la  to  be  found  in  the  habits  and  manners  gen- 
erated by  political  and  civil  despotism.  Catholicity 
leaves  to  every  people  its  own  nationality,  and  to 
every  state  its  independence ;  and  it  ameliorates 
the  political  and  social  order  only  by  infusing  into  the 
hearts  of  the  people  and  their  rulers  the  principles  of 
justice  and  love,  and  a  sense  of  accountability  to  God. 
The  action  of  the  Church  in  political  and  social  mat- 
ters is  indirect,  not  direct,  and  in  strict  accordance 
with  the  free-will  of  individuals  and  the  autonomy 
of  states.      Individuals   may   hold   very   erroneous 


CONCLUSION. 


327 


notions  on  government,  and  sustain  their  rulers  in  a 
very  unwise  and  disastrous  policy,  without  neces- 
sarily impeaching  their  Catholic  faith  or  piety.  To 
be  a  good  Catholic  and  save  his  soul,  it  is  not 
necessary  that  a  man  should  be  a  wise  and  profound 
statesman. 

The  Protestant  movement,  directed  chiefly  against 
the  Papacy,  and  involving  as  it  did  a  hundred  years 
of  so-called  religious  wars,  gave  the  princes  who  took 
the  side  of  the  Church  an  opportunity,  of  which  they 
were  not  slow  to  avail  themselves,  to  extend  and  con- 
solidate their  power  over  their  Catholic  subjects,  and 
to  establish  in  their  dominions  monarchical  abso- 
lutism, or  what  I  choose  to  call  modem  Csesarism. 
They  extended,  under  plea  of  serving  religion,  their 
power  over  matters  which  had  hitherto  either  been 
left  free  or  subjected  only  to  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
spiritual  authority.  They  were  defenders  of  the 
faith  against  armed  heretics,  and  to  restrict  their 
power,  they  pretended,  would  be  to  embarrass  them 
in  their  defence  of  the  Church.  A  habit  of  depending 
on  them  as  the  external  defenders  of  religion  and 
her  altars,  the  freedom  of  conscience,  and  Catholic 
civilization  itself,  was  generated;  the  king  took  the 
place  in  the  thoughts  and  affections  of  the  people  due 
to  the  Sovereign  Pontiff,  and  by  giving  the  directir.n 
to  the  schools  and  universities  in  all  tilings  not  abso- 
lutely of  faith,  they  gradually  became  the  lords  of 
men's  minds  as  well  ae  bodies.  In  France,  Spain, 
Portugal,  and  a  large  part  of  Italy,  all  through 
the  seventeenth  century,  the  youth  were  trained  in 


fi 


323 


THE   COXVEUT. 


the  maxim,  The  Prince  is  the  state,  and  his  pleasure 
is  law.     Bossuet,  in  his  politics,  did  only  faithfully 
express  the  political  sentiments  and  convictions  of 
\  his  age,  shared  by  the  great  body  of  Catholics  as 
veil  as  of  non-Catholics.     Rational  liberty  had  few 
lefenders,  and  they  were  ex  led,  like  Fenelon,  from 
he  court.     The  politics  of  Philip  II.  of  Spain,  of 
lichelieu,  Mazarin,    and   Louis    XIV.  in    France, 
which  were  the  politics  of  Catholic  Europe,  hardly 
opposed  except  by  the  Popes,  through  the  greater 
part  of  the  sixteenth  and  the  whole  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  tended  directly  to  enslave  the  people,  and 
to  restrict  the  freedom  and  eflSciency  of  the  Church. 
Had  either  Philip,  or  after  him  Louis,  succeeded,  by 
linking  the  Catholic  cause  to  his  personal  ambition, 
in    realizing    his    dream    of    universal    monarchy, 
Europe  would  most  likely  have  been  plunged  into 
a  political  and  social  condition  as  unenviable  as  that 
into  which  old  Asia  has  been  plunged  for  these  four 
hundred  years;  and  it  may  well  be  believed  that  it 
was  Providence  that  raised  and  directed  the  tempest 
that  scattered  the  Grand  Armada,  and  that  gave 
victory  to  the  arms  of  Eugene  and  Marlborough. 
.    Trained  under  despotic  influences,  by  the  skilful 
hand   of  despotism,   extending   to   all   matters   not 
absolutely  of  the  sanctuary,  and  sometimes  daring 
with  sacrilegious  foot  to  invade  the  s^nci,uary  itself, 
the  people  were  gradually  formed,  interiorly  as  well 
as  exteriorly,  to  the  purposes  of  the  despot.     They 
grew  up  with  the  habits  and  beliefs  which  Caesarism, 
when  not  resisted,  is  sure  to  generate.     The  clerg> 


COXCLUSIOX. 


320 


sympathizing,  as  is  the  case  with  every  nationnl 
clergy,  with  the  sentiments  of  their  age  aiil  nati*».i 
in  all  not  strictly  of  faith,  had  little  disposition  t  > 
labor  to  keep  alive  the  spirit  of  freedom  in  the  heart  of 
the  people,  and  would  not  have  been  permitted  to  ti.> 
it,  even  if  they  had  been  so  disposed.  Schools  wer«i 
sustained,  but,  affected  by  the  prevailing  despotism, 
education  declined,  free  thought  was  prohibited,  and 
it  is  hard  to  find  a  literature  tamer,  less  original, 
and  living  than  that  of  Catholic  Europe  all  through 
the  eighteenth  century ^  down  almost  to  our  ov\'u 
times. 

As  the  Catholic  religion  was  professedly  patron- 
ized by  the  sovereigns,  the  Church,  in  superficial 
minds,  seemed  to  sanction  the  prevailing  Csesarism. 
The  clergy,  because  they  preached  peace,  and  sought 
to  fulfil  their  mission  without  disturbing  the  state, 
came,  for  the  first  time  in  history,  to  be  regarded 
as  the  chief  supporters  of  the  despot.  They  who 
retained  some  reminiscences  of  the  liberties  once 
enjoyed  by  Catholic  Europe,  and  the  noble  principles 
of  freedom  asserted  in  the  Middle  Ages  by  the  monks 
in  their  cells,  and  the  most  eminent  doctors  of  the 
Church  from  their  chairs,  became  alienated  from 
Catholicity,  in  proportion  as  they  cherished  the 
spirit  of  resistance,  and  unhappily  imbibed  the  fatal 
conviction  that,  to  overthrow  the  absolute  throne,  they 
must  break  down  the  altar.  Rightly  interpreted, 
the  old  French  Revolution,  although  bitterly  anti- 
Catholic  and  infidel,  was  not  so  much  hatred  of 
religion  and  impatience  of  her  salutary  restraints, 


ddo 


THE  CONVERT. 


as  tne  indignant  uprising  of  a  misgoverned  people 
against  a  civil  despotism  that  affected  injuriously  all 
orders,  ranks,  and  conditions  of  society.  The 
sovereigns  had  taken  good  care  that  an  attack  on 
them  should  involve  an  attack  on  religion,  and 
to  have  it  deeply  impressed  on  their  subjects  that 
resistance  to  them  was  rebellion  against  God.  The 
priest  who  should  have  labored  publicly  to  correct 
the  issue  made  up  by  the  sovereigns  in  accord  with 
unbelievers,  would  have  promoted  sedition,  and  done 
more  harm  than  good ;  besides,  he  would  have  been  at 
once  reduced  to  silence,  in  Pome  one  of  the  many 
ways  despotism  has  usually  at  its  command. 

The  horrors  of  the  French  Revolution ;  the  uni- 
versal breaking  up  of  society  it  involved  j  the  perse- 
cution of  the  Church  and  of  her  clergy  and  her  re- 
ligious it  shamelessly  introduced  in  the  name  of 
liberty  ;  the  ruthless  war  it  waged  upon  religion,  vir- 
tue, all  that  wise  and  good  men  I' old  sacred,  not  un- 
naturally, to  say  the  least,  tended  to  create  in  the 
minds  of  the  clergy  and  the  people  who  remained 
firm  in  their  faith,  and  justly  regarded  religion  as 
the  first  want  of  man  and  society,  a  deeper  distrust 
of  the  praticability  of  liberty,  and  a  deeper  horror 
of  all  movements  attempted  in  its  name.  This, 
a«^ain,  as  naturally  tended  to  alienate  the  party 
clamoring  for  political  and  social  reform  still  more 
from  Catholicity ;  which  in  its  turn  has  reacted  with 
new  force  on  the  Catholic  party,  and  made  them  still 
more  determined  in  their  anti-Liberal  convictions 
and  efforts.     These  tendencies  on  both  sides  have 


CONCLUSION. 


331 


been  aggravated  by  the  recent  European  revolutions 
and  repressions,  till  novir  almost  everywhere  thn 
lines  are  well  defined,  and  the  so-called  Liberals  are, 
almost  to  a  man,  bitterly  anti-Catholic,  and  the 
sovereigns  seem  to  have  succeeded  in  forcing  the 
issue :  The  Church  and  Cnsarism,  or  Liberty  and 
Infidelity. 

Certainly,  as  religion  is  of  the  highest  necessity  to 
man  and  society,  infinitely  more  important  than  po- 
litical freedom  and  social  well-being,  I  am  unable 
to  conceive  how  the  Catholic  party,  under  the  circum- 
stances, could  well  have  acted  differently.  Their 
error  was  in  their  want  of  vigilance  and  sagacity  in 
the  beginning,  in  suffering  the  political  Csesarism  to 
revive  and  consolidate  itself  in  the  state,  or  the  sov- 
ereigns in  the  outset  to  force  upon  the  Catholic  world 
so  false  an  issue,  or  to  place  them  in  so  unnatui'al 
and  so  embarrassing  a  position.  How  they  will 
extricate  themselves  in  the  Old  World  from  that 
position,  I  am  unable  to  foresee,  for  every  movement 
on  either  side  only  makes  the  matter  worse.  Yet  the 
internal  peace  and  tranquillity  of  Catholic  states  can- 
not be  restored,  and  the  Liberals  brought  back  to 
the  Church  in  any  human  way  that  I  can  see,  unless 
the  Catholic  party  abate  something  of  their  opposi- 
tion, exert  themselves  to  change  the  issue  the  sov- 
ereii^ns  have  forced  upon  them,  and  take  themselves 
the  lead  in  introducing,  in  a  legal  and  orderly  way, 
such  changes  in  tlie  present  political  order  as  will 
give  the  body  of  the  nation  an  effective  voice  in  the 
management   of   public    affairs.     Rebellions,    when 


332 


THE  CONVERT. 


they  break  out,  must  of  course  be  put  down ;  but,  nt 
the  same  time,  every  'effort  should  be  made  to  discon- 
nect  religion   from   the  cause  of  despotism,  and  to 
remove  every  legitimate  source  of  discontent.     All 
attempts  to  remedy  the  existing  evil  by  decrying 
liberty,  by  sneers  or  elaborate  essays  against  par- 
liamentary governments    and    their    advocates,   by 
permanently   strengthening    the    hands    of   power, 
by  muzzling  the  press,  abridging  the  freedom  of 
thought  and  speech,  or  by  resorting  to  a  merely 
repressive  policy,  which  silences  without  convincing, 
and  irritates  without  healing,  are  short-sighted  and 
unstatesmanlike.     They  can  at  best  be  only  momen- 
tary palliatives  which  leave  the  disease,  uneradicated, 
to  spread  in  the  system,  and  to  break  out  anew  with 
increased  virulence  and  force.     The  truth  is,  the 
Catholic  party,  yielding  to  the  sovereigns,  lost  to 
some  extent,  for  the  eighteenth  century,  the  control 
of  the  mind  of  the  age,  and  failed  to  lead  its  intel- 
ligence.   They  must  now  recover  their  rightful  leader- 
ship, and  be  first  and  foremost  in  every  department 
of  human  thought  and  activity ;  and  to  be  so,  they 
must  yield  in  matters  not  of  faith,  not  essential  to 
sound  doctrine,  or  to  the  free  and  full  operation  of 
the  Church  in  all  her  native  rights,  integrity,  and 
force ;  but,  in  political  and  social  matters  subjected 
to  human  prudence,  they  must,  I  say,  yield  something 
to  the  changes  and  demands  of  the  times. 

That  the  struggles  in  Europe  have  an  influence 
on  Catholic  thought  in  this  country  is  very  true,  and 
sometimes  an  unfavorable  influence,  cannot  be  denied. 


I 


C0NCLU8I0X. 


833 


A  portion  of  our  forei^-born  Catholics,  subjected  at 
home  to  the  restraints  imposed  by  despotism,  feel  on 
coming  hero  that  they  arc  loosed  from  all  restraints, 
and    forgetting   the    obedience    they    owe    to  their 
pastors,   to  the  prelates  whom  the   Holy  Ghost   has 
placed  over  them,  become  insurbordinate,  and  live 
more  as    Protestants   than    as    Catholics;    another 
portion,  deeply  alarmed  at  the  revolutionary  spirit 
and  the  evils  that  it  has  produced  in  the  Old  World, 
distrust    the    independence   and    personal    dignity 
the  American   always  preserves  in  the  presence  of 
authority,  and  are  half  disposed  to  look  upon  every 
American  as  a  rebel  at  heart,  if  not  an  unbeliever. 
They  do  not  precisely  understand  the  American  dis  • 
position  that  bows  to  the  law,  but  never  to  persons, 
and  is  always  careful  to  distinguish  between  the  man 
and  the  office ;  and  they  are  disposed  to  look  upon  it 
as  incompatible  with  the  true  principle  of  obedience 
demanded  by  the  Gospel.     But  I  think  these   and 
their  conservative  brethren  in  Europe  mistake   the 
real  American  character.     There  is  not  in  Chris- 
tendom a  more  loyal  or  a  more  law-abiding  people 
than  the  genuine  people  of  the   United   States.     I 
think  European  Catholics  of  the  conservative  party 
have  an  unfounded  suspicion  of  our  loyalty,  for  I 
think  it  a  higher  and  truer  loyalty  than  that  which 
they  seem  to  inculcate.     I  have  wholly  mistaken 
the  spirit  of  the  Church,  if  an  enlightened  obedience, 
— an  obedience  that  knows  wherefore  it  obeys,  and 
is  yielded  from  principle,  from  conviction,  from  free 
will,   and  from  a  sense  of  obligation,    is  not  more 


834 


THE  CtiNVEET. 


grateful  to  hor  maternal  heart  than  the  blind,  unrea- 
soning, and  cringing  submission  of  those  who  are 
strangers  to  freedom.     Servile  fear  does  not  rank 
very  high  with  Catholic  theologians ;  and  the  Church 
seeks  to  govern  men  as  freemen,  as  Almighty  God 
governs  them,  that  is,  in  accordance  with  the  nature 
with  which  he  has  created  them,  as  beings  endowed 
with  reason  and  free-will.     God  adapts  his  govern- 
ment to  our  rational  and  voluntary  faculties,  and 
governs  us  without  violence  to  either,  and  by  really 
satisfying  both.     The  Church  does  the  same,  and 
resorts  to  coercive  measures  only  to  repress  disorders 
in  the  public  body.     Hence  our  ecclesiastical  rulers 
are  called  shepherds,  not  lords,   and  shepherds  of 
their  Master's  flock,  not  of  their  own,  and  are  to  feed, 
tend,  protect  the  flock,  and  take  care  of  its  increase 
for  him,  with  sole  reference  to  his  will,  and  his  honor 
and  glory.     We  must  love  and  reverence  them  for 
his  sake,  for  the  great  trust  he  has  confided  to  them, 
not  for  their  own  sakes,  as  if  they  owned  the  flock, 
and  governed  it  in  their  own  name  and  right,   for 
their  own  pleasure  and  profit.     This  idea  of  power 
whether  in  Church  or  State,  as  a  delegated  power 
or  trust,  is  inseparable  from  the  American  mind; 
and  hence  the  American  feels  always  in  its  presence 
his  native  equality  as  a  man,  and  asserts,  even  in  the 
most  perfect  and  entire  submission,  his  own  personal 
independence  and  dignity,   knowing  that  he  bows 
only  to  the  law  or  to  the  will  of  a  common  Master. 
His  submission  he  yields,  because  he  knows  that  it 
is  due,  but  without  servility  or  pusillanimity. 


CONCLUSIOy. 


335 


But  though  I  entertain  these  views  of  what  have 
been  for  a  long  time  the  policy  of  so-called  Catholic 
governments,  and,  so  to  speak,  the  politics  of  European 
Catholics,  I  find  in  them  nothing  that  reflects  on  the 
truth  or  efficiency  of  the  Church ;  for  she  has  no  re- 
sponsibility in  the  matter,  since,  as  I  have  said,  she 
governs  men,  discharges  her  mission  with  a  scru- 
pulous regard  to  the  free-will  of  individuals  and 
the  autonomy  of  states.  She  proffers  to  all  every 
assistance  necessary  for  the  attainment  of  the  most 
heroic  sanctity,  but  she  forces  no  man  to  accept  that 
assistance.  In  her  view,  men  owe  all  they  have 
and  are  to  God,  but  they  are  neither  slaves  nor 
machines. 

In  speaking  of  Catholic  nations  and  comparing 
them  with  the  Catholic  standard,  I  find,  I  confess, 
much  to  regret,  to  deplore,  and  even  to  blame ;  but 
in  comparing  them  with  non-Catholic  nations,  the 
case  is  quite  different,  and  I  cannot  concede  that  the 
Catholic  population  of  any  country  is  inferior  to  any 
Protestant  population,  even  in  those  very  qualities 
in  respect  to  which  Catholics  are  usually  supposed  to 
be  the  most  deficient.  In  no  Catholic  populatibn 
will  you  find  the  flunkyism  which  Carlyle  so  un- 
mercifully ridicules  in  the  middling  classes  of  Great 
Britain  ;  or  that  respect  to  mere  wealth,  that  worship 
of  the  money-bag,  or  that  base  servility  to  the  mob 
or  to  public  opinion,  so  common  and  so  ruinous  to 
public  and  private  virtue  in  the  United  States.  I 
do  not  claim  any  very  high  merit  for  our  Catholic 
press — ^it  lacks,  with  some  exceptions,  dignity,  grasp 


0)0 


THE   CONVERT. 


of  thought,  and  breadth  of  view,  and  seems  intended 
for  an  unlettered  community  ;  but  it  has  an  earnest- 
ness, a  sincerity,  a  freedom,  an  independence,  which 
will  be  looked  for  in  vain  in  our  non-Catholic  press, 
whether  religious  or  secular.  The  Catholic  popula- 
tion of  this  country,  too,  taken  as  a  body,  have  a 
personal  freedom,  an  independence,  a  self-respect,  a 
conscientiousness,  a  love  of  truth,  and  a  devotion  to 
principle,  not  to  be  found  in  any  other  class  of  Ameri- 
can citizens.  Their  moral  tone,  as  well  as  their 
moral  standard,  is  higher,  and  they  act  more  uni- 
formly under  a  sense  of  deep  responsibility  to  God 
and  to  their  country.  Owing  to  various  circum- 
stances as  well  as  national  peculiarities,  a  certain 
number  of  them  fall  easily  under  the  influence  of 
demagogues ;  but  as  a  body,  they  are  far  less  dem- 
agogical, and  far  less  under  the  influence  of  dem- 
agogues, than  are  non-Catholic  Americans.  He  who 
knows  both  classes  equally  well,  will  not  pretend  to 
the  contrary.  The  Catholics  of  this  country,  by  no 
means  a  fair  average  of  the  Catholic  populations  of 
old  Catholic  countries,  do,  as  to  the  great  majority, 
act  from  honest  principle,  from  sincere  and  earnest 
conviction,  and  are  prepared  to  die  sooner  than,  in 
any  grave  matters,  swerve  from  what  they  regard  as 
truth  and  justice.  They  have  the  principle  and  the 
firmness  to  stand  by  what  they  believe  true  and  just, 
in  good  report  and  evil  report,  whether  the  world 
be  with  them  or  be  against  them.  They  can,  also^ 
be  convinced  by  arguments  addressed  to  their 
reason,  and  moved  by  appeals  to  conscience,  to  the 


CONCLUSION. 


337 


^ear  of  God,  and  the  love  of  justice.  The  non- 
Catholic  has  no  conception  of  the  treasure  the  Union 
possesses  in  these  two  or  three  millions  of  Catholics, 
humble  in  their  outward  circumstances  as  the 
majority  of  them  are.  I  have  never  shown  any 
disposition  to  palliate  or  disguise  their  faults ;  but, 
knowing  them  and  my  non-Catholic  countrymen  as 
I  do,  I  am  willing  to  risk  the  assertion  that,  with  all 
their  faults  and  short(  Dmings,  they  are  the  salt  of 
the  American  community,  and  the  really  conserva- 
tive element  in  the  American  population. 

I  have  found  valid,  after  thirteen  years  of  experi- 
ence, none  of  those  objections  to  entering  the  Catholic 
communion  which  I  enumerated  in  a  previous  chap- 
ter, and  which  made  me  for  a  time  hesitate  to  follow 
the  convictions  of  my  own  understanding.  To  err 
is  human,  and  I  do  not  pretend  that  I  have  found 
Catholics  in  matters  of  human  prudence,  in  what 
belongs  to  them  and  not  the  Church,  all  that  I  could 
wish.  I  have  found  much  I  do  not  like,  much  I  do 
not  believe  reasonable  or  prudent ;  but  it  is  all  easily 
explained  without  any  reflection  on  the  truth  or 
efficiency  of  the  Church,  or  the  general  wisdom  and 
prudence  of  her  prelates  and  clergy.  Undoubtedly 
our  Catholic  population,  made  up  in  great  part  of 
emigrants  from  every  nation  of  Europe,  with  every 
variety  of  national  temper,  character,  taste,  habit, 
and  usage,  not  yet  moulded,  save  in  religion,  into 
one  homogeneous  body,  may  present  features  more 
or  less  repulsive  to  the  American  wedded  to  his  own 
peculiar  nationality,  and  but  recently  converted  to  ' 

15 


338 


THE   CONVERT. 


the  Catholic  faith  ;  but  the  very  readiness  with  which 
these  heterogeneous  elements  amalgamate,  and  the 
rapidity  with  which  the  Catholic  body  assumes  a 
common  character,  falls  into  the  current  of  American 
life,  and  takes,  in  all  not  adverse  to  religion,  the  tone 
and  features  of  the  country,  proves  the  force  of 
Catholicity,  and  its  vast  importance  in  forming  a  true 
and  noble  national  character,  and  in  generating  and 
sustaining  a  true,  generous,  and  lofty  patriotism. 
In  a  few  years  they  will  be  the  Americans  of  the 
Americans,  and  on  them  will  rest  the  performance 
of  the  glorious  work  of  sustaining  American  civiliza- 
tion, and  realizing  the  hopes  of  the  founders  of  our 
great  and  growing  Republic. 

SucH  are  the  views,  feelings,  convictions,  and 
hopes  of  the  Convert.  But  he  would  be  unjust  to 
himself  and  to  his  religion  if  he  did  not  say  that, 
not  for  these  reasons,  or  any  like  them,  is  he  a 
Catholic.  He  loves  his  country,  loves  her  institu- 
tions, he  loves  her  freedom,  but  he  is  a  Catholic, 
because  he  believes  the  Catholic  Church  the  Church 
of  God,  because  he  believes  her  the  medium  through 
which  God  dispenses  his  grace  to  man,  and  through 
which  alone  we  can  hope  for  heaven.  He  is  a 
Catholic,  because  he  would  believe,  love,  possess, 
and  obey  the  truth ;  because  he  would  know  and  do 
God's  will ;  because  he  would  escape  hell  and  gain 
heaven.  Considerations  drawn  from  this  world  are 
of  minor  importance,  for  man's  home  is  not  here,  his 
bliss  is  not  here,  his  reward  is  not  here,  he  is  made 
for  God,  for  endless  beatitude  with  him,  hereafter ; 


CONCH'SION. 


330 


and,  let  him  turn  as  he  will,  his  supreme  good,  as  well 
as  duty,  lies  in  seeking  ^'  the  kingdom  of  God  and 
his  justice."  That  the  Church  serves  the  cause  of 
patriotism ;  that,  if  embraced,  it  is  sure  to  give  us  a 
high-toned  and  chivalric  national  character ;  that  it 
enlists  conscience  in  the  support  of  our  free  institu- 
tions and  the  preservation  of  our  republican  freedom 
as  the  established  order  of  the  country,  is  a  good 
reason  why  the  American  people  should  not  oppose 
her,  and  why  they  should  wish  her  growth  and  pros- 
perity in  our  country ;  but  the  real  reason  why  we 
should  become  Catholics  and  remain  such,  is,  because 
she  is  the  new  creation,  regenerated  Humanity,  and 
without  commuiion  with  her,  we  can  never  see  God 
as  he  is,  or  become  united  to  him  as  our  Supreme 
Good  in  the  supernatural  order. 


FINIS. 


a 


UNIVERSITAS  S.  PAULI 

BIBLIOTHIQUE  -  L.BRARY 
233  MAIN,   OTTAWA 


